


Beautiful Beast

by YollyDelaney2



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Beast - Freeform, Beast Dean, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Jensen Ackles, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Intense, Love Jensen Ackles, Other Thrilling Adventure Hour Segments, Passion, Rough Sex, SPN - Freeform, Sex, Sexy Dean Winchester, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Stockholm Syndrome, Supernatural - Freeform, Thriller, You Beauty, agressive, heated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YollyDelaney2/pseuds/YollyDelaney2
Summary: My life didn't exactly play out the way the world has come to believe. It wasn't one of love, and friendship, and kindness. It was much darker than that, and I assure you, incredibly more painful.The man they call the beast held me captive in his castle for months. He tore me from my family and everything I ever knew. He forced me into a life which I can only now describe as miserable. If you are so naïve to believe the monster that held me captive in his home, kept me there for no other reason than to dine with me and be my friend, you are sadly mistaken. He took everything from me and to this day I cannot recall what it was that I did to deserve it. I don't know where I went wrong or why my path has led me here, but I do know that it has changed me irrevocably. He surprised me, left me reeling, baffled me, but most of all – he scared me more than anyone ever had.My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and this is my story.The real one.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 54
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you are sensitive about sexual situations and etc.. please just don't read this book. This is not the Disney Beauty And The Beast.  
> Read, Follow, Vote, Comment. :)

In a small peasant town like the one I had been stuck in all my life, people like to talk. I guess that's how any rumor gets started, rooted in boredom and human instinct to judge. I'd always tried to avoid confrontations of the sort, resolved to indulge in a novel instead of participate in the daily gossip of the town.

There was one legend, however, that could not escape even me.

The village people spoke of a beast.

They told such stories to their children, frightening them off and preventing them from ever venturing too far from town and into the looming forest on its outskirts. They spoke of a man, cruel and heartless that resided outside of the town on an isolated ridge. They told stories of his demeanor and actions, most of them could only be described as evil and ruthless. It was said that he isolated himself in his castle, hiding from the outside world, only coming down occasionally to ravish a village or capture stray children whose wandering feet and curiosity had taken them too far. It was unavoidable that every time something went amiss, the beast was to blame.

I shook off their stories, never paying much attention to the nonsense. I'd never given it more thought than I'd given Little Red Riding Hood, a story I'd indulged in hundreds of times, and their whispers escaped me as I would often continue on with my day.

The tales of the beast were the last thing on my mind as I scoured the forest in the thick evening fog for my father. He'd been missing for a few days and I'd grown terribly worried. I'd tried to gather some of the other townspeople but none of them had seemed very concerned that my father was missing and reassured me that he would be home in good time. None of them had ever liked him much anyways, I wasn't sure they even liked me for that matter.

None of that mattered however as I followed the path through the eerie treacherous forest to a set of gates. Behind them, a dark castle that looked like it belonged in a nightmare loomed ominously in the moonlight.

I stepped off of my horse hesitantly, moving towards the gates with caution. I caught sight of my father's traveling cloak blowing in the wind, just behind the gates and gasped, lunging forward.

"Father," I breathed, rushing towards the dark castle in haste.

I rushed up to the large double doors and banged on them with all my might. "Father!" I called as the cool night wind wrapped around me, blowing my dark hair every which way.

I waited and continued to rap on the door, but no one came. Alas, I pushed it open, stepping hesitantly inside. The room was large and dark. I could barely make out a stair case towards the back through the light of a dimly lit fire. The air was still and quiet. It was warm, but that didn't stop the goose bumps from raising on my arm as I took another step into the seemingly abandoned home.

"Father!" I called again, my voice echoing off the wide expanse of the walls.

Realizing I was alone, I quickly moved to search the castle for any sign of my father. I rushed down hallways, dark and quiet, finding nothing and almost getting lost in the process. The house was huge.

At last I heard the faint sound of coughing and gasped as I followed it up a dark and winding staircase. "Father!" I called as I rushed up the stairs of what I now realized was a tower and into an even darker and mustier room.

The room was entirely made of stone, cold and damp, hay was scattered across the floor and piled in the corner.

"Y/N!" I heard my father gasp in surprise as he stifled another sickly cough.

"Father!" I rushed towards him where he was locked in a small cell in a corner of the room.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?! You must leave! Now! Run, my darling," he encouraged with sad eyes as I leaned forward to gasp his ice cold hands.

"You're freezing," I whispered. "I have to get you out of here. Who did this to you!" I demanded as I fumbled reaching for the locks and prying at them hopelessly. I tugged on the rod iron of the cell to no avail and huffed in defeat and despair.

I jumped in surprise as I heard a door open behind me with brute force and slam shortly after with the same strength.

"Who dares to intrude upon the solitude of my home!" A voice boomed in the darkness. I scanned the piercing darkness but couldn't see him, only a faint outline of his silhouette as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. "What are you doing here!" he roared, the testosterone and anger in his voice was enough to cause me to jump back in fear and grasp my father's hand tighter.

"I-I came to find my father. He was gone for so long, I feared the worst and… you have to let him go! Why are you doing this? Please, release him!" I begged as I clutched on my father's hand tightly.

"He trespassed on my property and is therefore now my prisoner. It was his own foolishness that landed him here," the man explained clearly, anger still lacing his every word.

"Who are you?" I couldn't stop myself from asking as my curiosity overwhelmed me.

"I am the master of this castle," was his short reply. "And you don't belong here. You have few moments to leave before your fate becomes the same as his," he warned in an icy tone.

"But sir, please, he is old and sick, he can't stay here, he will not survive it," I begged, the desperation in my voice surprising even me.

"That is not my concern, girl, now be on your way!" he roared, turning to head towards the doorway once again.

"Wait!" I called in desperation. He paused but did not turn.

"Take me instead," my voice was almost a whisper. I hung my head as I waited for his reply.

I saw his form turn towards me, calculatingly moving forward as he watched me.

"You wish to trade your life for his," he stated in confirmation, a hint of shock laced his tone.

"Yes."

"Y/N! No! Don't do this! I am an old man, I've lived my life. Yours is only starting, don't throw it away for me, I won't let you!" My father protested desperately. "Y/N, my darling, please, I love you, I beg of you, do not do this."

I remained silent as I gazed back up at the dark figure. After a moment and without warning, he lit a match, moving to the wall to hold it against a torch hanging there that ignited quickly. He took the torch in his hands and stepped forward, his eyes appraising me.

I audibly gasped at the sight before me. The man gazing back at me was incredibly more beautiful than anything I'd seen in my entire life. His eyes were a piercing green, staring at me with such cold calculation that had to glance away. His jaw was firm and strong, an accenting feature on his face, and his hair; soft and short, dark blond making his face glitter in a way that quite literally took my breath away. He was like a furious burning fire. That man could burn any woman's heart only if he pleases.

His eyes roamed my body, top to bottom as he leaned down and squatted in front of me, moving the flame closer to my frame huddled on the floor as he observed me. His eyes moved to my hands where they clutched my father's frail ones and then his gaze met my own again.

"Fine. You will certainly be of far more use to me than your old man. I was planning to let him rot."

Relief swept over me as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He turned to me once more, hesitating as he held the lock in his hand.

"You realize that you are giving your freedom, you very life, to me," he stated evenly.

I nodded sadly and he watched me for a moment before nodding and releasing my father from his steel confines.

My father stood abruptly, moving towards me as if to embrace me, tears in his eyes. He never got the chance however as the man whose name I had yet to learn grabbed him roughly and pulled him away.

I blinked fast, tears gathering behind my eyes as I glimpsed at my father. "Can I not at least say goodbye?" I begged. "I'll never seem him again; can you not grant me at least a goodbye?"

His brows furrowed in disgust. "What makes you think you deserve one," he growled, pulling my father across the room swiftly as I raced after him, screaming that I loved him, before the door was slammed in my face and I collapsed onto the cold hard tile in defeat.

The reality of what had just happened hit me with full force as sobs began to wrack my body and the tears I'd been blinking back in the strangers presence fell with unstoppable fury.

I climbed over to the narrow window of the tower as I heard the sound of hooves trotting quietly in the night air. I watched, desperate for one last glimpse of my father as the carriage carried him away and out of my life for good.

Had I been in a different state of mind, I might have wondered at where the driver had come from and how come I had not seen him upon my search of the castle.

Alone with my thoughts and alone in the world, I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them tightly as I let my grief consume me, and my tears run free.

It was mere minutes later when the door opened again and the man stepped forward abruptly. Something about the way he held himself commanded absolute power and respect. He was dangerous, and I could see it in his eyes cold and calculating as they watched me.

I looked up, wiping stray tears from my cheeks as I gazed at him in curiosity.

"Your name is Y/N," he stated at last, having heard my father call me by it.

I nodded. "Yes, that's my name," I whispered softly. "And... what is yours?" I asked hesitantly.

His brows furrowed.

"You do not speak unless spoken to or otherwise told, is that clear?" he roared in anger as his stance stiffened.

My own eyebrows creased in anger at the motion. If there was one thing I hated, it was being told what to do.

"You cannot tell me when I am allowed to speak! That is a right of my own choosing," I spat.

In a second he lunged forward and was kneeling in front of me, his face inches from mine; his breathe escaped in angry spurts and hit my face.

He reached forward and wrapped one large strong hand around my neck, the force of his fingers alone leaving me gasping for air.

"You are my prisoner now and therefore you are mine. I own you. Every fucking bit of you, sweetheart," he growled, his eyes wandering my body before reconnecting with mine.

"You lost each one of your rights when you swore yourself to me in exchange for his life. I tell you when to eat and when to breathe and any resistance of my control or backtalk will strictly not be tolerated. Did I make myself clear?" He whispered his words harsh and sharp as he spat them at me.

I nodded feverishly, hoping that if I complied his hand would release its death grip on me and I would finally be able to taste precious air again.

He drew his hand back and I clutched my neck, gasping as I stared at him with wide eyes.

His eyes bore into mine as he stood, shooting me one last warning glance before turning towards the door.

"A few days in the tower will do you good. Start learning your place here, girl, you won't be leaving any time soon," he warned before slamming the door behind him and leaving me alone in the cold damp room with my thoughts, fears and the never ending tears.

Beautiful, but beast!


	2. Chapter 2

I spent that night shivering and crying as I curled into myself on the cold hard floor. The fact that my father was free from harm brought me little comfort, but the despair I felt continued to creep its way into my bones. Twenty years old and I'd never do the things I'd dreamed of my entire life. It was simply over.

I woke the next morning to the sound of the door softly opening. I glanced up somewhat fearfully from the place where I was curled on the ground to see a man watching me curiously. He was tall and and with jaw-long hair, with a pretty firm body, no younger than the king of that place.

I noted a look of worry forming on his face as he studied me.

Moments later an red-haired woman entered behind him and gazed as me with wide eyes. "Good heavens child, you look terrible!" She exclaimed in a foreign accent, which sounded pretty interesting and nice. "And positively freezing! I shall put on a pot of tea!" she bustled, moving to exit the room.

The man turned and grabbed her arm gently, stopping her. "The master said no, Rowena," he whispered regretfully.

"Well, for goodness sakes, I won't let her starve, let alone freeze up here in this god awful hole he put her in!"

"You'll have him to answer to if you disobey," the man warned gently. She signed, her face falling.

The man turned back to me and I backed up slowly to brace myself against the wall as I watched him cautiously. "Hello, Y/N," he said with a small smile, hesitantly stepping forward.

"My name is Samuel, and this is Rowena Macleod. We are servants here in the castle."

"Hello," I whispered.

"You must be cold, and hungry," he added sympathetically. I remained silent.

He sighed. "I shall try to see about bringing you some soup later. The master is quite insistent in his orders but I shall speak with him and see what I can do," he offered.

I nodded in gratefulness.

"He is in one of his moods, dearie," Rowena chimed in. "He is acting cruelly towards you, we know, but we can do nothing about it. He is not always so bad," she offered.

I didn't see how that could be true. The man was heartless.

"We must be going," Sam added gently.

"The hay," Rowena said softly. "However itchy and unappealing, makes an alright blanket if nothing else," she added hopefully. "I shall come back and check on you later," she nodded.

"Thank you," I offered them both a half smile. They were kind to me in a way I had not known since coming here.

"Keep your chin up, child," Mrs. Macleod added before turning to leave. As they exited the tower I heard her whispering about how young I was and what a shame it was that their master had done this. I huffed in defeat, taking her advice and piling a bunch of hay below and around me for some sense of warmth.

I've spent another night in much the same way, cold and miserable. I paced the tower a bit for some activity, but what surprised me the most was the complete boredom I felt. I longed to have one of my books with me for a distraction.

Mrs. Macleod did come by later. She brought me a cup of tea and a sandwich and told me not to tell anyone with a knowing smile. I was _really_ grateful.

The night was even cooler than the one before and I found myself shaking quite furiously in a restless sleep. My teeth began to chatter, a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time, and come morning I had developed a cough.

I woke again the next morning to the door gently opening once again. Expecting to see Samuel or Mrs. Macleod again, I looked up hopefully from the place where I was huddled in a ball on the ground. However, my eyes widened when the man I had come to fear entered the room instead. I subconsciously cringed away from him, cornering myself farther into the wall as I struggled to sit up.

He watched me closely as I sat there, hugging myself tightly and shivering in the cold morning air before he closed the door gently behind him. I let out a small fit of coughs as he stepped towards me slowly.

"Slept well?" he asked, his tone flat.

I didn't even bother to answer his clearly sarcastic question and I remained silent as I gazed up at him cautiously.

He waited.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he growled, his tone sharp.

"No, I did not sleep well," I answered shortly.

"Get up," he said at last.

I stared at him in confusion.

"Get. Up!" he repeated impatiently.

I obliged, using the wall to support myself as my head rushed dizzily when I stood. I realized how little I'd eaten the last two days as I straightened myself out.

"Come with me," he turned to leave, opening the door for me to exit. He led me quickly down the stairs and back into the warmer and homier castle. We walked down a long hallway and I gazed absentmindedly at the paintings lining the wall. It felt like we had been walking for a very long time when at last, we stopped in front of a large set of double doors.

He opened them widely and gestured for me to enter the room.

I stepped inside and struggled not to gasp at the beauty of the room. It was a large master bedroom; a huge four post bed covered in rich linens and thick pillows was the centerpiece of the room. There were beautiful dark oak dressers engraved with intricate carvings and a matching desk at one end of the room. The curtains were pulled back, framing a large window. The room looked rich as it was papered in a dark red that accented the wooden furniture and gave it a very royal mood.

My eyes landed on the bed and widened. Across it, lay one of the most beautiful gowns I had ever laid eyes on. It was a deep red with black accents in the fabric that seemed to resemble the royal and elegant feel of the bedroom. There were matching gloves and it looked to be about my size. I wondered briefly if it had been worn before and by how many women. This man didn't seem like to type to keep dresses lying around.

"This is my room," he said at last. "You will be staying in here with me from now on," my eyes widened as I turned to shoot him a startled look.

"Unless you'd prefer the tower," he added with a devious smirk. I almost did. However, the knowledge that if I stayed there much longer during these cold fall nights I would surely fall very ill deterred me from saying so. I was just beginning to warm and the thought of going back there cause a shiver to run through my body. I remained silent as I looked down solemnly.

Noting my discomfort, he went over to the fireplace on the opposite wall and quickly started a small fire, the light and head radiating from the room almost instantly.

"You are to wear that to dinner," he said after a moment. "It is at seven sharp, and you will be joining me."

"What if I do not wish to," I dared, sick of him telling me what I would and would not be doing.

His eyes narrowed.

"Let me just be clear in saying, that if you do not eat with me, you do not eat at all. Judging by the sound of that cough, you've grown sick enough to be depriving yourself of meals out of stubbornness," he added sharply.

I glared at him.

"And clean yourself up, you smell of hay," he added, turning his nose up. "There's a wash bin and sink in there," he pointed to a small adjoining room. "I have some things to take care of. I'll be back to get you for dinner later. Don't leave this room," he added as he moved towards the door.

"Wait," I called, he turned with an annoyed sneer.

"What do I call you?" I asked at last.

He hesitated. "You may call me master," he answered before exiting the room and leaving me alone once again.

It was only morning when he left, and I realized I had a lot of time to kill before he returned. I wondered briefly if this giving me one meal a day thing was going to be a regular occurrence and my stomach agreed that we hoped not.

I started by washing myself, glad for the opportunity as I felt every bit as dirty as he implied I looked. I found a full length mirror in the room with the washtub and confirmed my suspicions. I looked like a mess. My hair was tossed and straggly, my cheeks reddened from the cold, my eyes thick with bags from the lack of sleep and I had to admit, I didn't smell the best after spending so much time in the tower. I saw that a bath had already been drawn for me and washed myself and my hair thoroughly.

I found a brush and began running it through my tangled locks in hopes of making myself feel more like a person again. The rest of the day was spent mostly in boredom and seclusion. I had no visits from the staff, maybe they were afraid of breaching the sanctity of his chamber, and I managed to find a scrap piece of paper and a quill to doodle with. As I sat there, I wondered if there would be any chance of escaping this castle without being caught and killed for it. I didn't know how many servants he had, or how close his watch was on me. I didn't know which doors were locked and which were open. There were so many things about this place that were unknown to me.

I drew flowers on the paper for a few hours, writing my name in large loopy letters and waiting for dusk to fall outside the window. I didn't particularly want to dine with him, but my hunger was too much to ignore and when twilight started to fall across the room, I lit a candle and began to dress myself.

I pulled on the dress, noting how it fit me exactly right. The neckline fell off my shoulders, resting just above my bust line, my breasts flowing over just slightly. It hugged my thin waist and flowed out from there, creating the illusion that I was even thinner than I was. And as I slipped the silk gloves on, they too seemed to mold to my hand and complete the outfit.

I stared at my unruly hair and decided to pull it back into a semi complicated up-do. I put some of it up and left some of it down, whisking a few stray curls out of their confines to let them fall around my face. I then glanced at my reflection and suppressed a smile. I actually looked...nice.

I smoothed out my gloves, turning every which way to make sure the dress fell just right. It truly was beautiful. I didn't have time to appraise myself long as the double doors opened with a start a moment later. I jumped back in surprise, my eyes widening as I turned around.

He stood near the doorway appraising me.

"That dress certainly suits you much better than the hay and the rats of the tower," he spoke in a sarcastic tone, that smirk playing on his chiseled face.

I remained silent, unsure how to take his comment and a slight blush rose on my cheeks as I crossed my arms over my chest.

He stepped forward offering me his arm and I raised my eyebrow suspiciously at the gentlemanly gesture. When I hesitated however, he grasped my arm hard pulling me into him and leaving a tight grip on my arm. I winced and a small cry of pain escaped my lips at the roughness of his actions as he pulled me out of the room and down the hall.

We walked until we came upon a large dining room with two places set on opposite ends of a long table. I saw Sam and Mrs. Macleod busying themselves with setting the last few items on the table and she sent me a warm thoughtful smile. I struggled not to smile back lest I give away any sort of connection between us. He all but pushed me down into the chair on one end before taking his on the other. He placed his elbows on the table in front of him, his fingers meeting at the tips as he peered over them at me in a calculating glare.

I tried to stare back with just as much defiance in my gaze as annoyance in his but I had a feeling that was a feat that would never be accomplished.

"You will dine with me each night, unless I say otherwise," he spoke as our first course was laid in front of us, some delightful looking soup that made my stomach rumble.

I picked up my spoon and took a sip. It tasted great. I don't know what I was expecting but I was grateful to have good food.

"So, is that my purpose then? You dress me up and dine with me so you don't have to eat alone," I mused.

His face lowered into a scowl. "What did I say about speaking out of turn," he growled. "And no, you will quickly learn that is not your only purpose here. You will be of greater use to me," his eyes flickered deviously. "You'll see."

I ignored his ominous implications and enjoyed my soup. The next course was brought out, meat and vegetables and it tasted equally as wonderful. I looked up as I could feel him watching me, to see his eyes trained on me. He was one very observant man and it seemed he was always watching my every mood.

I wanted so badly to tell him to stop staring, it was rude, but I didn't want to risk getting chocked again for it.

"It seems as though you'd like to say something," he observed.

I glared at him.

He nodded. "Go ahead," he allowed.

"I was just going to inquire as to whether or not your mother ever taught you not to stare. Clearly you've forgotten your manners," I replied shortly.

He smirked. "That dress makes it hard not to," was his quick reply. I glowered at him.

"I guessed your size perfectly," he said proudly.

My eyes widened. "You had it made?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course. How else would I have gotten my hands on a dress," he scoffed.

This surprised me. I suppose it was his need to have me dressed as he pleased, but he had spent money on me, and had put me in respectable and beautiful clothing.

"How many servants do you have," I asked, not sure if my offer to speak was still extended. He seemed to forget it as he mused.

"A few. The most loyal being Samuel and Rowena; they have been with me for as long as I can remember," he answered.

"Who was driving the carriage that...took my father away?" I asked quietly. He watched me in silence for a moment.

"Samuel," he responded after a moment.

I nodded sadly. "Did he...get home alright?"

I expected him to tell me to stop asking so many questions but he simply nodded. "Your father is safe."

I sighed gratefully at the news.

"Back in that god forsaken town," he mused.

"Have you ever lived there?" I asked hesitantly once again.

He was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Once."

"Why did you leave?" His eyes darkened.

"None of your business," he snapped I glanced away, realizing I had struck a cord and our question and answer session was now over.

"What do they say about me?" He asked after a few moments of quiet thoughtful eating.

"The villagers?" I asked. He nodded.

I suppressed a chuckle. "They've practically turned you into a legend."

His eyes widened.

"They tell stories about you. They say you steal people's children and raid villages by night. That your evil incarnated, and wreak havoc on the town. They call you _the beast,_ " I explained with an eye roll at the end.

He smirked, almost in awe. " _The beast_ ," he chuckled darkly. I noted the expression, it seemed to suit his face. He was pleased with what he heard.

"You like the fact that you've been turned into a children's tale, your cruelness?" I scoffed.

He considered this. "I like the fact that they fear me," he answered at last. "Fear demands respect."

The rest of the meal went by rather quietly. There were a lot of things I wanted to ask him, but I didn't dare. Afterwards he told me to return to his room and said he would be along shortly.

As I made my way back down the hall, I wondered why he had left me unaccompanied. Did he trust me? Know that my fear would outweigh my curiosity? Or did he hope that I would disobey him so he'd have a reason to punish me.

I considered wandering the castle out of curiosity but resolved to leave that for another day when I felt he would be gone for a longer period of time and not catch me upon his return to his room.

The moment I returned to the room, my stomach dropped. The realization that we would be sharing a bed hit me with full force and I wondered how I had not let myself fret over it earlier. Perhaps it was my inclination to take things one step at a time. Now that we were at this step, my heart began to race.

I wondered what I was supposed to wear to bed, but upon glancing at the large mattress again, I noted that again my clothing has been laid out for me. Across the thick sheets lay a thin white nightgown. I reached forward, stroking the soft material, marveling at the softness of it.

Though upon slipping out of my dress and into it, I realized it was not entirely opaque, and crossed my arms over my chest in annoyance at the slightly see through material. I pulled my hair out, letting it fall freely across my shoulder as I found the brush I had used earlier and began running it slowly through my soft curls, untangling and smoothing the strands. I left it down and stood awkwardly in the room unsure of what to do next.

I wasn't sure if I was allowed to climb into bed without his permission, or for that matter if he was going to make me sleep on the floor.

I wondered briefly if I pretended to be asleep before he came in if he would just leave me alone. Unlikely.

Fear rose in my stomach at the possibility of what he might do to me, of what I would have no control over and no chance of stopping. Like he had said I was his.

I began to tremble, hugging myself slightly as a sick feeling pitted itself in my stomach.

I had never lain with a man before. I'd barely kissed one. I was entirely inexperienced in every way and I prayed that was not what he wanted from me. It was certainly not what I wanted with him.

I moved towards the wall and sat down on the space between the bed and the wall, on the floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly, providing the best coverage of my body I could supply and some mild comfort for my shaking limbs.

I sat there in mild fear as I waited for him to enter the looming double doors and explain my fate.

Surely he wouldn't be so cruel as to force me to do something like that. He was mean, that much was clear, but I found it hard to believe he could be that much of a monster.

I didn't have to wait long, as it was moments later that the doors opened quietly and I huddled into myself once more.

He looked around the room briefly in curiosity before finally spotting me in my hiding place on the floor.

A look of amusement crossed his face yet he said nothing. He merely shut the door and began to undress himself. He tugged at his jacket and shirt, pulling them over his head and tossing them on a chair, no doubt for his servants to pick up in the morning. I tried to look away as his naked chest came into view, but found it difficult to tear my eyes from his toned torso. He paid me no mind as he shed the rest of his clothing and slipped into his night clothes. I looked away as he undressed. I then noted that his night clothes consisted only of a pair of silk trousers when he finally turned his attention back to me.

"Get off the floor, girl." He spoke firmly.

I stared at him with wide fearful eyes.

"I am not going to hurt you," he said at last with a sigh, moving towards me and extending his hand.

I didn't believe him and I remained huddled in my spot.

He reached forward and pulled me up. "Get in bed, it's much more comfortable than the floor, I promise," his tone was almost gentle.

I crossed my arms over myself, trying to hide my body from his ever watching eyes as I fearfully and hesitantly climbed into the closest side of the bed and pulled the blankets up immediately.

He moved to climb in beside me and I stiffened at his proximity.

I glanced at him fearfully. His face creased into a look that almost resembled pity as he gazed at me.

He pulled the blankets over himself and laid next to me, just watching me. "Relax," he said at last.

"I'm not going to touch you," he spoke softly. "Tonight," he added quickly. "Get some sleep, you need to rest," he spoke, his eyes looking at my frightened face.

"I must be fair in warning you I am a light sleeper. Do not make the mistake of thinking you can sneak off in the night. You will regret it," his tone held a firm warning. "If I have to, I'll tie you to the bed post but I don't think that's what either of us want."

I nodded sadly as I turned away from him, hugging my pillow tightly as I stared out the window into the darkness. I was tense for a long time after that, waiting in anticipation for him to go back on his word and ravage me in a sudden act of violence. He never touched me though, true to his word. He blew out the candle at his bedside and the room went dark. I did however feel his gaze burning into me long into the night until my exhaustion finally got the best of me and I slipped into awaiting darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a picture of how I imagine that beastly version of Dean as a baby. His mother and father are different (as well and his brother). But, those are only unimportant details.

The forest around me was dark, and the wind strong. I shivered as I looked around frantically in confusion. Where was I and how had I gotten here?

I lurched forward, frantically searching for a path, for something familiar as I pulled my travel cloak closer to my body.

"Y/N!" I heard a weak voice rasp. I turned quickly, seeing a form huddled on the ground. I rushed forward with wide eyes upon realizing it was my father. As I approached I could see him coughing and shivering weakly in the night air. I leaned down next to him, searching him frantically for injuries and unsure what to do.

"Y/N," he whispered weakly.

"Father," I breathed, tears falling from my face. "What are you doing here?" I gasped.

"Y/N, help me," he begged.

"Father, I..."

"Please, help me," he repeated hoarsely.

I sobbed gently. "I don't know how," I whispered.

"Father....I miss you!"

I started awake to the feeling of someone gently shaking me.

"Y/N," an annoyed voice snapped from beside me. "Shut up. You're yelling in your sleep, damn it," he grumbled.

I sat up quickly, noting that my cheeks were streaked with tears. I glanced around fearfully in confusion, quickly realizing I was not lost in a forest but still trapped in a whole different kind of hell.

"Lie down and go back to sleep," he growled, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me back down on the mattress.

I tensed, trying to shrug him off, feeling far too constricted. My heart was still racing and I gasped for air, feeling like all I needed in the world was space and I cringed at his touch, wishing he would just let go, just for an instant.

"Please, don't," I begged. "I cannot-I cannot breathe," I gasped, throwing the blankets from my body and sitting up again, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them tightly as I took a few deep breaths, struggling to wipe the remaining tears from my cheeks and make sense of my nightmare. A sharp pain coursed through my chest as the image of my father, his voice ringing in my ear.

_Y/N, help me!_

"Y/N," I turned to see him watching me curiously from the mattress beside me. "Calm yourself, it was just a dream," he said it like an order but his words came out softly.

"I worry for my father," I admitted at last, whispering the words as I tugged my hair back and gazed out at the moonlit yard.

He was silent for a long moment. "I am sure he is safe. He is home and so are you."

"Home or safe?"

"Both," he answered at last.

I turned to give him an incredulous look.

"I am hardly safe," I scoffed.

"Have I given you a reason to believe otherwise?" He challenged.

I thought on that. He had never given me a reason to believe my life was in jeopardy in his company. Even when he chocked me I knew his intention was not to kill me, but to scare me. I let his question go unanswered as I hugged my knees tighter.

"Lie down and stop your weeping, morning will come soon," he coaxed. I realized he had been trying to reassure me, maybe even comfort me, but I remained still.

"Y/N," he said softly. "I will not harm you, lay down."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. I fell down onto the mattress beside him, his own eyes gazing into mine as I studied him for a moment. He said nothing and neither did I. I let my misery and sadness shine through as I stared at him, telling him with my eyes things I was not allowed to say. That I hated this place, and what he was doing to me-that I hated him. His face showed no emotion as he watched me, tears gathered in my eyes as my sorrow overwhelmed me, and at last I turned from him.

The first tear betrayed me before I was able to turn and I huddled into myself as I faced away from him. Light sobs wracked my body as I lay in misery, thinking of all I had lost and everything I missed about my life-thinking about my father.

I feared he would lose his temper on me for keeping him awake, but he said nothing. I cried and he did absolutely nothing. He was not angry, he did not try to comfort me, he did not scold me; he simply let me be.

I did not know how long I kept him up, but my tears soon pulled my body back into a light slumber.

When I woke up, he was already gone.

Instead, I awoke to Mrs. Macleod bustling through the door with a tray.

"Morning, dearie," she smiled, setting the tray down on the bed beside me as I sat up. She poured me a cup of tea and handed it to me. I took it gratefully and noticed a plate of toast also on the tray. I smiled at her.

"Thank you," I said softly.

She nodded. "How did you sleep?" She asked cheerfully. I wondered briefly how anyone could be cheerful in this place. "Alright," I answered truthfully. "A bit fitfully," I added.

She nodded thoughtfully. "I told him not to make you share his bed. It's not right. He doesn't often listen to me though," she shook her head slowly. I wondered how she got away with telling him anything, but as I studied her, I realized how much she reminded me of my own mother and any early memories I'd had of her before she died. I imagined he felt the same way about her and that everyone did for that matter. I couldn't imagine him every touching her, though he probably lost his temper with her as often as he did with me.

"He didn't...do anything," I offered, hoping to comfort her a bit, hating to see her so worried.

She nodded sadly. "He has ordered that you not leave this room until he returns to get you for dinner," she added softly.

I groaned in annoyance. "If he wanted to keep me locked up like a prisoner he might as well have just left me in the tower."

"I am sorry, dearie; I know it must be awfully boring in here all by yourself. Is there anything I can bring you?" She offered.

"Are there any books?" I asked hopefully.

She frowned. "What kind of books?"

"Any kind. I would much prefer one with a story!" I exclaimed excited at the prospect.

"It is not normal for a young woman to take such an interest in reading," she said hesitantly.

I sobered. "They said that in the village too."

She paused, thoughtfully studying my long face. "The master has quite an extensive collection of books. I shall see if I can sneak you one and bring it by later," she smiled softly. "It would be in the best interests of both of us if you were very careful about when you read it and where you hide it though. If he learns of this, he will not be happy," she warned.

I nodded hopefully.

She smiled, gathering the empty tray and placing my toast on the bed beside me.

"That wardrobe is full of dresses for you to wear. I would pick one and dress for the day and I shall be back later," she said before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

I ate quickly before getting up and making my way towards the wardrobe.

When I opened the double doors of the cabinet, I could not suppress the gasp that escaped my mouth. It was stuffed full of dressed in all different colors and styles. There were fancy dresses and everyday dresses, but not one looked like it belonged to a peasant, they all looked like they were made for royalty.

I ran my fingers over the smooth, soft material, marveling at the textures. Upon opening the bottom drawers I spotted undergarments and nightgowns.

I couldn't help but smile and wonder at why he would bother to dress me so nicely for only his eyes. I picked a rich green gown and put it on before pulling my hair back in a low ponytail-the way I most often wore it. I tied a matching green bow in my hair and admired myself once again in the long mirror, assuming if this kept up much longer I was going to become quite the narcissist.

I huffed, plopping back down on the bed in defeat. I couldn't seriously be expected to pass another day alone in this room with nothing to do.

I glanced at the large double doors remembering how Mrs. Rowena had slipped out. I didn't recall her locking anything and wondered if the doors were open. I got up, deciding to test the theory.

I was completely shocked to find upon turning the handle that the door opened.

I gasped, wondering why he hadn't locked me in.

I pulled the door open a bit, peeking out into the hallway. It was long and empty, the late morning sun peeking through windows here and there, but mostly it was illuminated by candle light.

I briefly weighed the pros and cons, but my adventurous spirit simply wouldn't allow me to stay put another moment. My curiosity got the best of me and I closed the door quietly behind me before tiptoeing down the hallway to the right.

I didn't exactly know where I was going, so I walked aimlessly, peeking around each corner I passed.

The castle was large, decorated in the traditional baroque style and lined with deep purples and rich red colors. Ancient but beautiful paintings lined the hallways and mysteriously dark sculptures and artistic pieces seemed to loom throughout the entire castle. I suppressed a chill as I gazed into the stone eyes of a carved gargoyle at the end of a hallway.

I peeked in door along the way, mostly finding spare bedrooms, what looked like servant's quarters, many empty rooms, and nothing of any real consequence.

I took a few random turns and ended up in a more spacious area of the castle where the hallways seemed to open up and become wider and roomier.

I heard soft footsteps and ducked behind a large statue of a wolf. I glanced around it cautiously to see Sam with a duster in hand, humming to himself as he walked down the length of the hall away from me. My rapid heartbeat slowed a bit. He entered a room at the end of the hallway and in my panic I decided to get out of the open for a while and ducked into the closest room, shutting the door tightly behind me.

I turned, examining the contents of the spacious room. It was lighter than the hallway, the large drapes were pulled to the side to let the sunlight in. In front of the large window there was a desk and a large chair. I saw a few shelves of books lining the walls and a few stacked on the desk. There were also papers scattered across the desk in a messy array.

Behind the desk to the right of the window hung a beautiful portrait.

I cautiously moved towards the desk, coming around it to get a better look. I stood in front of the painting, curiously glancing at the smiling faces encased within. There were five of them, all arranged in a pose that clearly resembled a family portrait.

At the head of the picture stood a sturdy looking man, his dark mustache and deep eyes commanding power and respect. To his left stood a thin woman with fair hair and a kind smile. Beneath them were two young children. The boy with the brown straight hair and a boyish grin looked younger than his brother that stood on the right side of him. He looked to be in his mid to late teens. He had dark curly hair and eyes with incredibly depth for a boy his age. He was a clear spitting image of his father and there was no doubt in my mind just who he was. Those eyes were something I would never forget.

I looked curiously at the boy on the portrait. There was a heaviness in the man I knew that was not present. He seemed lighter in the picture, almost happy; there was a passion in his eyes, a light that had long since burnt out.

My mind was reeling as I skimmed the frame that held the painting. At the bottom, engraved in thin cursive letters were the words ' _For Dean Winchester_ '.

I blinked.

_Dean Winchester_

That was his name, the monster that held me here- _the beast._

Knowing this made him a fraction more human than he had been a moment before. I glanced around, moving to a bookshelf on the opposite wall as I realized this room was very personal to him and that I probably should not be here.

I decided to skim the shelf quickly for a book to read and be on my way.

My eyes widened with delight as I realized just how many books there were. I brightened, reading titles, realizing quickly that most of them were academic pieces and frowned slightly. Maybe he had another room with storybooks.

I ran my hands along the spines gently as I curiously peered back at the painting, the boys eyes still felt like they were gazing into mine.

I shrieked as I felt a strong hand grasp my upper arm roughly and push me forward into the book shelf. I felt someone's breathe hot on the back of my neck as they pressed my body into the shelf roughly.

"What are you doing here," he whispered furiously in my ear. I recognized his angry voice instantly and shuttered, realizing I'd set off his temper once again.

"N-Nothing-I," I stuttered unintelligibly.

"I told you to stay in your room," his voice rose quickly as he spoke and by the time he had finished he was screaming at me, testosterone lacing his voice and making me shutter.

"You are never to come here," he roared, grabbing me and spinning me roughly to face him, throwing my back quickly into the bookshelf. The air was momentarily knocked from my lungs and I gasped as I stared at him with wide eyes, fire blazing in his own.

"You have disobeyed me," he growled.

I swallowed, finding just an ounce of courage within me. I narrowed my eyes.

"Well maybe if you didn't keep me locked up like a caged animal, I wouldn't have come here! I'm a human being, not a dog. You can't expect me to wait around for you all day and pant happily when you walk through the door!" I yelled back.

I felt the sting to the side of my face before I saw it coming. My head turned sharply and hit the bookshelf. I cried out as he lowered his hand, still breathing deeply with anger.

My hand flew to my cheek, holding the throbbing flesh as I turned my head to glare at him, hurt filling my eyes.

A man had never struck me before, not even my own father, and I had to admit that the emotional wound was slightly more painful than the physical one.

His nostrils flared as he glared at me behind a strand of hair that had fallen down his forehead. "You are mine," he spat. "I can do whatever I please with you," he continued, calming slightly but the rage was still clear in his tone. "So far, I think I have been far too lenient in explaining that to you. Perhap,s it is time you learn the meaning of the word punishment," he growled. "Or perhaps it is time you start learning your true place here with me."

"I think it's best I start teaching you tonight after dinner. I hope you had breakfast because you'll not be joining me," he warned. My stomach growled in protest.

He released his tight grip on my arm and I felt the blood flow through it once again.

"I gave you the opportunity to cooperate with me, but you chose to disobey me..." he shook his head.

"A few lessons need to be learned here, girl. Your spirit is far too free, and it needs to be broken. You are no longer in charge of your life. That right is mine. It's time you start getting used to that," he moved towards the door, motioning for me to join him.

I followed him out of the room and he shut it behind him. I remained silent, the tears I'd been holding back threatening to spill as they glistened unshed behind my eyes.

He turned, studying me once again. "Return to my room. I'll be along after supper. Dress for bed and if you so much as think about wandering off again...I don't think I need to explain what I'm capable of," His eyes narrowed, the pure anger in them scaring me to my core.

"Did I make myself clear?" I stood in shock, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Y/N," he growled.

I nodded furiously, realizing I'd forgotten to answer.

He nodded harshly before turning in the opposite direction and walking briskly away from me before disappearing around a corner and out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains violence and graphic rape. You have been warned!!!

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror of his bedroom. The place where he had hit me was slowly darkening, a tender bruise forming on the side of my face. I winced as I ran my hand over it gently, recalling his outrage and the haste in which his moods could change so drastically.

That was what was beginning to scare me most about him; he was so unpredictable and his temper flared so easily, his anger overshadowing reason.

I was dressed in my choice of nightgown as instructed, though I picked the one that provided the most coverage. I walked over to the small dresser and picked up the brush I had used before. I took my hair down and ran the brush through it once, before noticing a hardcover book beside where the brush had lain on the table. My heart skipped happily as I picked it up, realizing Mrs. Macleod must have left it for me. I opened it, flipping through it quickly. There were colorful pictures of various scenes every few pages. I beamed.

My smile fell however when I heard the door handle click and my heart raced. I turned with a start, shoving the book behind my back as I gazed wide eyed at the door.

It opened and Dean stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind him before turning to face me. His emotionless expression changed ever so slightly as he took in the sight of me. I thought I saw a hint of remorse in his eyes as he stepped forward slowly, his eyes falling on the darkened skin of my face. He reached up like he might touch it, but quickly remembered himself and lowered his hand.

"I-" he sighed, closing his mouth.

I moved to set the book down quietly on the desk behind me, hoping to do so without his notice, but he was too quick, his ever watching eyes shot down to my hands crossed behind me.

His eyes narrowed and I gulped, already recognizing his growing anger once again.

"What are you hiding from me," he asked calmly, his piercing gaze boring into me.

"Nothing," I whispered.

He grabbed my arm roughly, snatching the book from my grasp. His eyes burned with anger.

"Where did you get this?" His voice rose ever so slightly.

I fumbled on my words, not wanting to get Mrs. Macleod in trouble.

"Did you steal it?" He roared.

"N-No, I-"

"It belongs to me, and you have it. I believe that is the definition of stolen," he words pierced the thick air that surrounded us. He stepped toward me, his face just inches from mine as his angry eyes bore into mine.

His angry breath came in short spurts as he stared at me. He grabbed my upper arm roughly as he inched towards me, moving us back towards the bed slowly. "Why do you persist to test me?"

I shook my head. "I-I'm sorry," was all I could think to say as I struggled to get his temper back under control. As he took my arm and fiercely shoved me back onto the bed though, I knew his rage had far surpassed that point.

I scrambled back towards the headboard frantically as I gazed at him with wide eyes. He stood beside the bed breathing heavily, his eyes scanning my quivering form, looking up and down my body.

I'd never felt more on display and my heart beat quickened as I stared at him with fearful eyes. "I own you," he muttered, his angry eyes meeting my own.

"I'm sorry," I repeated pathetically.

"You need to learn some respect," he said at last, shaking his head. He began removing his clothes, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt as he watched me with a devious glare.

"No," I shook my head furiously, my heart pounding in pure terror. "Please," I whispered. He shed the clothing on the upper half of his body and I tried to ignore once again the fact that my eyes were instantly drawn to the toned muscles of his torso.

He moved to stand right at the edge of the bed, glancing down at me and I noticed an emotionless coldness in his features. His eyes met mine but I could not read the expression behind them, I could not figure out what was going on inside that ever calculating mind of his. Any sense of humanity that had previously covered his features was now vacant and like so many times before I knew he was past the point where I could reason with him.

He stepped forward, beginning to climb on the bed beside me. I tensed, shaking my head as I moved as far from him on the mattress as I could. "Do not make this a fight. You will lose, Y/N," he said, a dark warning in his voice.

"I do not want this, please, don't. Please," I begged.

"It does not matter what you want. I am your master; the only thing that matters is what I want. How many times must I explain this to you, you stupid girl," he growled, moving to grab me and pull me effortlessly towards him on the bed. He gripped my arm tightly as he held it in front of me, gazing into my eyes as we sat side by side.

"Don't you care for anyone else," I pleaded with him, my voice cracking as I tried to argue with him.

"No, nor has anyone ever had any care for me. Humans are selfish creatures," his reply was shockingly cynical.

"H-How can that be true when I saw in your mothers eyes such love for you and your entire family. The very portrait that hangs in your office is a reminder of that love, a reminder you stare at every day. How can you believe such things when-"

I was silenced with another sharp blow. But this time, it was on my butt. I cried out in pain as I recoiled from his touch. His eyes blazed as they stared at me with such intensity I shuddered.

"Shut the fuck up. You know nothing....nothing," he growled, pushing me back into the bed in anger. I cried out as the air left my lungs momentarily and he moved to position himself over me. He held me down, wearing only his black trousers and me only my night gown.

I stared up at him fearfully as he reached down, pinning my arms to the bed easily using only one of his and the other to toy with the string of my night gown above my chest. I withered beneath him frantically and to no avail against his strength. "No," I breathed in despair.

"Do not tell me no," he insisted with a growl as his fingers loosened the material that covered my body, the only thing shielding me from his menacing touch and his ravishing gaze.

"How many other women have suffered like this at your ruthless hands? How do you live with yourself," I spat in anger at him, hating everything he had done to me, everything he was about to do.

He didn't answer me, yet struck me again on the butt and I whimpered as I struggled to contain my emotions. I would not cry, not in front of him. I could not give him the satisfaction. He would not know how badly he was hurting me, in every way a man could hurt a woman.

I withered beneath him, kicking and squirming relentlessly as he tugged at my nightgown. He applied the pressure of his body weight as he lay flush against me to keep me still and worked to raise my nightgown from the hem up, maneuvering in the small space between our struggling forms.

In his concentration his grip went slack for an instant and I took the opportunity to elbow him as hard as I could in the torso. He groaned, probably more out of annoyance than pain, before elbowing me back twice as hard, a sharp pain radiating through my stomach where he would surely leave another bruise. "Your stubbornness is the source of your pain. If you would not fight me, I would not have to fight back," he insisted as he pulled the nightgown from my body, throwing it to the side.

His eyes met mine as I felt the bare skin of my now exposed flesh press against his. I was bare beneath him, at his mercy, and I hated it. "And what? Lay here and allow for you to use me as your toy, to do what you please with me and when you are finished, wait in anticipation for when you would have me again? Sorry, but I will not willingly be your whore," I spat, tears still brimming behind my eyes as I gazed up at him with defiance.

"Then you will be my whore unwillingly, it does not matter to me," he concluded as he shifted his weight to back away from me slightly, peering down at my now naked form beneath him. I winced, closing my eyes, unable to handle his scrutiny.

I expected him to tell me that I was the ugliest woman he'd ever laid eyes on in his cruelty, or insist he could barely stand to have me.

I winced as I felt his soft fingers run the length of my flesh from the crevice between my breasts to my stomach.

I expected something degrading to escape his hateful lips. I actually expected anything but what he said next:

"It's no wonder that everyone in this place call you a swan," he breathed softly, "So beautiful..."

My eyes shot open in shock as I stared up at him with wide eyes. He met mine briefly before leaning down to place a kiss to the flesh of my breasts and I looked away with shame, turning my head as far from his gaze as I could and closing my eyes once again. I wondered if I pretended it wasn't happening if this torment would actually stop. I knew however that things like that had never worked for the monsters under my bed as a child, or the numerous bumps in the night, and they would surely not work for me now.

I laid there, breathing deeply and trying not to cringe away from him with every touch. His hands roamed the length of my body, taking one of my breasts in his hands and fisting it tightly. His other hand moved down to caress the skin of my thigh, before brushing my core surprisingly gently.

I squirmed adamantly beneath him, closing my legs tightly against his unwanted touch there.

"Do not continue to fight me, _birdie_. You will regret it," he warned. I lifted my head to meet his gaze as he stared up at me.

"I will regret it more if I don't." I assured him. He shook his head as he gazed at me.

"You will gain nothing as the outcome will be the same. I will have you," he promised, holding me down once again as he moved to undo his pants. He slid them down hastily, tossing them aside and my eyes widened as I took in his already hard and extremely large member. I'd never seen another man's to compare it too, but it's size was surely something I hadn't expected. There was no way that was going to fit inside of me, no way it ever could. I shook my head fearfully as I withered away from him, trying to move back on the mattress. He groaned again, pulling me back under him.

"Please," I begged frantically, fear encasing my once again. "I do not want this, I do not want you. Please do not do this, I beg of you."

"You have to accept that this is what your place is here. That this is what is expected of you. When you agreed to trade your life for your fathers, you handed yourself over to me, you agreed to this," he insisted.

"I-" I was speechless. I had agreed to submit to his will when I sold my life for my fathers, though that didn't mean it would ever be easy.

I looked away defeated, my body going limp beneath his on the mattress. He did not move for a long moment, and I laid there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against mine, our bodies so close, our naked flesh touching, and the constant reminder of his arousal against my thigh making me feel ill.

"I would not have you like this," he said softly at last. "I do not wish for it to be like this between us. If you would submit to my will as your master and accept your place as well as the deal and promise you made to me, you could find pleasure in what I do to you. I could even be gentle with you if you'd allow it, but if you continue to fight me, I have no choice but to fight back. This is what it is, and I will have you. Pleasure or pain is your choice," I could feel his eyes searching my face but I could not meet them, the pure humiliation and defeat I was feeling at his hands was too much.

"I do not want this and I will never agree to it. If you will in fact have my body, then it will have to be by force," I whispered, sadness lacing my voice as the tears I had been fighting the entire encounter finally broke free and wet my cheeks.

"Then you leave me no choice," he said with finality as he reached up and pushed a strand of hair gently behind my ear. The gesture once again confusing me as he often did.

From the corner of my eye I saw his eyes ravishing my body once more, his hungry gaze devouring every inch of me. The coldness had returned to him and I didn't even have to look at him to know as much. I'd known him for such a short period of time, but I'd already learned so much about him. The thought startled me, but I didn't have much time to ponder it before his hands groped my skin once again, breaking my train of thought and sending me into agony once more.

His hand trailed the length of one of my legs, stopping at my entrance and grazing the skin there in not a rough manner but not exactly a gentle one either. I whimpered in protest as I turned away from him again, my tears falling freely onto the mattress beside me. His other hand trailed my torso, running his fingers along every inch of it. He surprised me yet again by taking one of my breasts in his mouth and sucking on it gently, instead of biting on it harshly the way I had expected. The experience was almost a pleasurable one but I would never in my life admit it. He shocked me yet again by grabbing my chin gently and forcing me to look at him. He cupped my jaw firmly and his lips crashed down onto mine.

I could not understand why he would attempt such a gesture and jerked my jaw away from his grip instantly. He sighed but relented. I turned away from him again, my tears ever falling and my sobs gaining momentum as I knew he had probably had enough toying with me and would any moment ravish and ruin me forever.

I was right, as it was only moments later when I felt him grip my hips firmly and my stomach dropped. I winced in anticipation of his entrance and fisted the blanket beneath me as my sobs became uncontrollable.

Moments later a pain unlike anything I'd ever known filled me as he plunged into me in one swift movement, lacking any of the gentleness I'd been hoping for. I cried out in pain, all but screaming at his intrusion as I withered beneath him, my sobs quickening still. I waited for him to continue his ruthless attack on my body and for this to finally be finished with, but he did not move.

I tilted my chin to gaze curiously at him through my tear filled eyes and he was watching me with a look I could not distinguish. He pulled out of me slowly, gazing down at the blood that covered both my legs and his hardened member before back up at me.

He pushed back in much slower and gentler than he had the first time before leaning over to me, placing his head next to my ear as he continued his slow motions, causing a sharp pain to shoot through me with each movement.

"You're a virgin," he breathed with a hint of shock and what sounded like regret.

"Not anymore," I answered with disdain and shame through a sob.

He said nothing as his pace quickened and so did my tears. The pain persisted until finally his movements became quick and sloppy and I heard him begin to pant quickly above me. I shut my eyes, willing it to be over as I awaited his climax.

A few short minutes later he grunted loudly, pushing into me with one last rough stroke as he filled me and his juices spilled inside of me, shooting into me and causing yet more pain.

He panted heavily as he rested his head on my chest, his sweaty strands of hair resting against the skin there for a moment and I cringed away from him as I waited for him to finally leave me be.

After a moment he finally pulled out of me, the pain and relief of the action were almost equal. He released his weight and moved away from me and the second I could, I rolled from under him. I gingerly turned on my side and pulled the blankets to me, clutching them with everything in me as I surrendered to my complete sorrow and pain and cried.

I laid there like a child and wept, wishing for nothing more than a mother to hold me and tell me everything would be alright. I heard him shuffling beside me as his breathing calmed but he said nothing. I curled into myself and gave into every emotion I was feeling.

I hated this place, hated him, hated everything about my life at the moment, and now, I hated myself.

He let me cry for a long time, and as hard as I tried it seemed as though my tears would never cease. Late into the night I felt a strong arm slip around my waste as he pulled me into him gently. I cringed at his touch and the way that his possessive grip made me feel even more like a prisoner than I previously had. I whimpered, shuddering against his grip and struggling to break free. He pulled me tighter against him however and I tried to relax in his grip, realizing he would not let me go. Why he held me I did not know. I turned in his arms, fully prepared to shoot him a hateful glare, but when I caught his eyes, the hint of remorse behind them made me pause in my actions.

He confused me. He confused me so much. I didn't understand him and the fact agitated me more than I'd like to admit.

I glanced away after a long moment but could feel him continue to watch me in the moonlit darkness. He moved his hand gently, guiding me into his chest where he left his arm around my torso, encasing me in an embrace. I had no choice but to lean against his chest, my tears falling onto the naked flesh there as sobs racked my body slowly. Our flesh met in almost every place possible and I hated it. The sensation made me sick to my stomach. But what I hated infinitely more was the fact that his gentle touch brought me an odd sense of comfort. I cried into his shoulder, and he pulled the blankets over the both of us. As he ran his hand soothingly along my spine, my sobs slowly began to cease. I felt sleep coming over me in short gentle waves as I remained in his arms. This was the man who had hurt me, caused me indescribable pain and he was lulling me to sleep, comforting me. Not only did I hate him for it, but hated that he was able to calm me and I was eventually able to succumb to sleep in his arms, the way I had not been before they had encased me.


	5. Chapter 5

When I woke the next morning he was gone. I glanced at the slightly open doorway, not really expecting anything else, and realizing I'd never felt more alone. I wondered briefly if this was what the rest of my life would be like-torturous nights and lonely mornings. I sighed sadly as I shifted in bed in an attempt to sit up. I winced, noting that the pain seemed to be everywhere at once, but notably worse between my legs.

I groaned, struggling to sit by propping myself up against the headboard. I pulled the sheets against my still naked body shamefully as I tried my best to ignore the dark crimson stains that adorned them. I stared out the window for a long while, thinking about the wedding night I'd dreamed of and how it would never happen now. I thought about how my husband would have been gentle with me, how I would have woken up in his soft arms the next morning and not wrapped in the sheets of a monster.

I glanced around the room, toying with the edge of the sheets as I wondered whether these for walls would be my prison for another day. I wondered if he planned on confining me to his room for the rest of my life and sighed hopelessly as I realized he might just be that cruel.

There was a timid knock on the door and I turned to see Mrs. Macleod and Samuel hovering cautiously in the doorway. My eyes widened as I clung to the bed sheet, pulling it closer to my otherwise naked form.

They took in the sight before them, and Sam's eyes moved to the stained sheets before narrowing. He gave Mrs. Macleod a curt not and left the room in one swift angry motion.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Macleod sighed, cautiously shutting the door and coming to sit beside me on the bed.

I flinched at the movement of the mattress and instantly regretted it. She wasn't the one who hurt me. She wasn't going to hurt me.

She looked down for a long moment, closing her eyes in pain.

"I had really hoped he would be able to refrain from all of this with you," she said softly. "I prayed he would leave you alone."

"It's not your fault," I whispered sadly.

"I've watched him grow up, treated him like my own son, and when he does things like this...it hurts. I thought I'd shown him better than this, shown him to give respect where it is deserved. I thought things were going to be different with you, but I guess I was wrong."

"Why?" What made me so special? How many times had he done this before?

She just shook her head. "Are you in much pain, dear?" She asked softly.

I contemplated, not wanting to make her feel worse. I shifted in place, trying to sit up straighter and winced. "A bit," I admitted.

She nodded sadly. "Let me see," she said softly, grabbing one of my arms gently in hers. Her touch felt like I imagined my mother's would have, soft, gentle, comforting. The few memories I had of her were vague, but the familiarity of this moment still struck me.

I hissed as she brushed over a bruise that was darkening around my wrist. I hadn't noticed it before because of the throbbing ache that seemed to consume me. Upon further inspection I noted I had many bruises along my body from where he had struck me and held me down. The worst one that I could see was across my stomach, where his elbow had met my flesh, and from Mrs. Rowena's expression, I didn't want to see my face.

"You must have put up quite the fight, lovely," she said softly, gently pulling back the sheets to examine my injuries further.

I looked away sheepishly.

"I'm proud of you," she said softly. "Fighting him - very brave," she paused for a moment and I glanced away from her sympathetic gaze. "I'll draw you a bath, you need to get cleaned up. A soak would do you good."

Dressing was painful, and I protested, wishing I could just wear my less constricting night clothes. Mrs. Macleod insisted I put on one of the dresses he had ordered for me; she was sure that he would be upset if I didn't dress properly for him, despite the fact that wearing the tight material caused my bruised and sore skin so much pain.

I didn't care about how I looked any longer. I hoped that my bruised skin and bed hair made me seem unappealing to him, maybe then he would leave me alone. Mrs. Macleod left me, saying it would be wisest to stay put again today, as he had not instructed otherwise, and I ran a hand quickly through my tangled waves before laying gingerly back down onto the mattress.

I laid, facing the door in order to brace myself for when he would walk through it again. I caught sight of the book on the nightstand, the one I had never even gotten a chance to read. I stared at it longingly but didn't dare move an inch towards it, knowing how furious he would likely be. I wondered briefly why he hadn't returned it.

I contemplating grabbing another piece of parchment and doodling or writing to pass the time the way I had the first day, but I found I really had no desire to move.

I resigned to lay there and think about how I would probably never again feel joy. How the rest of my life would consist of duties that I did not want to partake in. How it would be one of complete misery.

I laid like that for a long time, emotionless and unmoving. I was afraid to shift more than an inch from my spot, lest I set of the ache within my body once more. I found that everything throbbed less when I remained still.

Throughout the day, I drifted in and out of sleep, thinking and dreading the evening. I knew that once supper was finished with and the sun went down, I would be his again. The thought made me sick to my stomach, and if the thought of getting up hadn't repulsed me more than the thought of him, I might have emptied my stomach over the toilet.

I was surprised to have a visitor late in the afternoon, which pleasantly broke up the day enough to save me from complete boredom.

Sam hesitantly stepped through the doors, with a look of what could only be described as pity.

"Hello, Y/N," he said gently. I offered him a weak smile, nodding at him from my place, still unwilling to move and greet him.

He stepped closer, coming to sit on the edge of the bed as he studied me.

I gazed up at him curiously, wondering why he had come. I hadn't spoken to him much since arriving here, but I genuinely liked him.

I studied the soft line of wrinkles that creased under his worried eyes, the beginning of grey hairs that framed his face, before my eyes fell on something that hadn't been there this morning-a black eye.

"What happened to you?" I asked with concern.

A slightly amused smirk crossed his face. "Do not worry, I am quite fine. My concern is for you, Y/N," he spoke softly.

"I do not pretend to be oblivious in this matter. I know what he has done to you, and for that I am truly sorry," he studied me thoughtfully, gagging my reaction to his words.

I remained silent, listening to him speak, realizing it was something I no longer really had the desire to do. It didn't matter what I said, my life was already in someone else's hands.

"I would not wish it on anyone, especially on a young lady as yourself," he continued hesitantly.

I nodded softly.

"Y/N," he almost whispered, brushing my hand gently, the compassion in his eyes almost too much to bear. I looked away. "Is there anything I can get you?"

I shook my head, sadly.

"Dinner? Some water? Anything? The master has left the castle for a few hours on business. He will be dining elsewhere, but will return before nightfall. In light of today's events I can bring you something if you do not wish to venture to the dining hall," he asked hopefully.

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

He sighed gently. "You've barely touched a morsel of food since you stepped foot in the castle. I have to admit I am worried. Please, eat something," he pleaded.

"I'm afraid I've no appetite," I said honestly.

"You will wither away to nothing."

"Then at least I would no longer be stuck here," I replied cynically.

He sighed, dropping his gaze.

"Think about it," he said softly, moving to stand.

"And, Y/N?" He called as he departed the room. I looked up. "Don't give up. There's too much fight in you, it would surely be a shame."

Sam and Mrs. Rowena of course refused to take no for an answer, and left a sandwich and glass of water on a tray at my bedside an hour later.

I reluctantly ate half the sandwich, unable to stomach more than that and went back to staring into oblivion.

I wondered if the rest of my life would pass as slowly as the day had.

It was just after dusk when I heard the familiar dreaded sound of the doorknob turning. I stiffened, preparing myself for the sight of him, a white hot fear creeping into my bones.

My heart rate quickened as _he_ hesitantly stepped through the door, looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him.

He glanced at me quickly where I laid, before shutting the door behind him and seemingly paying me no mind.

He slipped off his shoes, and began undressing slowly. I had to admit he looked like a man carrying all the burdens of the world on his shoulders, stressed and drained.

He dressed familiarly in only his night trousers, before running a hand through his locks in a frustrated gesture and plopping down on the chair I usually occupied in front of the dresser and mirror-a place I hadn't ventured today.

He sat there for a few moments, simply staring down at the carpet intently and we both said nothing. He was thinking, that much I could tell, and I laid there, curiously studying him as neither of us moved an inch.

He sighed, glancing up at me for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face, then my huddled up frame.

He broke the silence by standing at last and coming to sit on the edge of the bed that I occupied.

I flinched as he drew closer, unconsciously shrinking away from him in fear, my eyes growing wide as I withered backwards on the mattress, wincing in pain.

He watched me closely, but said nothing. His eyebrows pulled together in a look of pure concentration as he watched me.

He reached forward slowly, extending his hand towards my face and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in anticipation, not sure if he was going to strike me or if this was the beginning of another night of Hell.

I heard him sigh gently in frustration and I felt a soft caress on the side of my face. I opened my eyes in surprise, confused by the gesture. He was gazing at me with something that resembled gentleness in his eyes. He moved his thumb gently, stroking the skin where I knew I had a dark bruise. I winced slightly as he ran his hand over it and his eyes met mine.

I looked away almost instantly, and followed his gaze as it traveled the length of my body. It was then that I realized I was shaking, my body trembling beneath his touch. His eyes devoured my form beneath him and he gently pulled up my sleeve to gaze at my arm.

I wasn't sure whether he was examining his handy work or heightening his arousal for round two.

At last, he glanced away, a contemplating look on his face.

He stood abruptly, moving to shuffle through my drawers of clothing and pulled out a surprisingly conservative nightgown.

"You'll be much more comfortable in your night clothes," he said softly, setting it down on the bed next to me. That and he would have easier access to my body. I tried not to think about that as I gazed at him, my eyes betraying nothing but solemnity.

He nodded, moving to the adjoining bathroom to rinse his face and presumably give me some privacy.

I wondered why he bothered. He'd already seen every inch of me; but I was grateful nonetheless.

I sat up gingerly, letting out a small cry as I sat up. The pain in my stomach had worsened throughout the day. I stretched to start pulling at the laces of my dress but found no matter how I moved it was nearly impossible, for the pain persisted.

Tears brimmed in my eyes from the agony as I somehow slipped an arm out of my dress with much effort. I winced, whimpering as I continued to struggle in my cotton confines.

Mrs. Macleod's help this morning had required very little movement on my part. Doing this alone however, was proving to be exactly the opposite.

He entered the room again a few minutes later to find me in nearly the same position he'd left me, almost entirely still dressed, a few tears spilling from my lids.

I glanced down in shame as I continued to tug painfully at the dress. "I-I can't," I whispered through a quiet sob.

He swiftly moved to my side, grabbing my hand surprisingly gently to help me stand.

He then worked on the lace of my dress, helping me to undo it and slip it off with little effort on my part. I was equally as agitated that I needed his help as I was grateful for it. I wanted to scream at him, ask him if he was happy with what he'd done to me, but I found I didn't have the fight.

The dress fell in a pool at my feet and I crossed my arms self-consciously across my chest. He spun me, reaching for my nightgown, yet still saying nothing.

I could see his calculating gaze wondering my flesh as he fingered the material, positioning it to slip it over my head. I glanced down quickly again noting just how dark the large bruise had become on my stomach, and how noticeable the ones were becoming on my hips. I bit my lip hard to stifle any sobs that might threaten to escape, to the point where I almost drew blood. He met my eyes again briefly and once again I thought I saw a hint of regret behind them. I dismissed it quickly though, remembering how I had mistakenly thought that before-before he had raped me. There was no way that was regret, how could it have been when he had gone on to cause a hundred times more hurt a moment later.

He helped me slip the nightgown over my head and I moved gingerly. He worked slowly, and I couldn't help but feel a small wave of gratitude for the help he had provided. Without him I would surely still be sitting on the bed weeping pathetically. Though, without him I also wouldn't have been weeping at all.

He grabbed my arm and slowly helped me climb back into bed. I leaned against the headboard and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them close and staring up at him with wide eyes.

I suddenly became terrified. If I couldn't even dress myself for the pain, how was I going to endure another night of his endless rough advances? Would I have to submit in hopes he would be gentler with me? Would I have to beg him to be careful of my sore spots?

My eyes suddenly welled again at the thought. I caught his gaze.

"Please," I begged pathetically with everything I had left. "Please... don't. I am too sore," I looked down shamefully. "I couldn't bare it. Please, I beg you," I said softly through another sob. I thought about the throbbing spot between my legs and how I would ever be able to stand another intrusion tonight without certain agony.

His brows creased in what resembled pity as he glanced down at me. "Rotten Hell," he mumbled before moving to climb in the bed opposite of me, resting on the headboard in much the way I was.

He glanced over at me, studying my every second move. "I will not touch you," he said softly.

Relief swept over me as I blinked in shock. I gave him a grateful look as I pulled the covers to my body and hugged them close. "Thank you," I whispered, trying to calm my shaky voice the best I could.

We sat there in silence for a moment and I realized everything was different between us. Just yesterday we might have been bantering and shooting each other snide remarks of defiance, but now the mood was solemn. He had changed that and I couldn't quickly forget it.

The truth was I feared him more than I ever had. I worried that anything I said might set off that temper of his and cause me more pain than I could handle tonight. I glanced at him briefly and noticed that he seemed to be in good spirits despite the weary look in his eye. I wondered what the day had held that left him so drained, though I didn't dare ask.

Neither of us was ready to sleep just yet but since we were not on speaking terms, there was no way to pass the time. I stared longingly at the book at my bedside, wishing with my whole heart that I could get lost in it for a few hours and forget my wretched fate.

He followed my gaze. "I don't care if you read," he said suddenly.

I turned to him with a startled expression.

"Y-You don't?"

He shook his head. "I thought you'd taken the book from my office, which is why I was so upset by it. I know now that you didn't," he said evenly. "Your reading is of no concern to me. Read all you want, Y/N."

My heart leapt. "You... don't have a problem with a woman reading?" I asked hesitantly.

He looked like he might roll his eyes. "No. Nor should anyone else. There is no sense to prohibiting a woman from reading," he spoke the fact like it was plainly obvious.

"I do however have a problem with servants that are not loyal to me," he stated sharply.

I gulped. "I... she didn't mean anything by it. Please. I asked her to fetch it for me. Please, don't be upset with her. It's my fault," I pleaded, needing to explain to keep the sweet old woman out of trouble. I gulped. "Punish me, not her," I insisted, regretting the words the instant they left my mouth.

He glanced at me, suddenly confused at my words. "Even in your state, you would take the fall, huh?" he mused.

I nodded, looking aside.

"Interesting."

He studied me for a long moment.

"Don't hurt her," I persisted.

He groaned. "Relax. I've never laid a hand on the woman. She's as old as my own mother, and acts like she did. As much as she defies me sometimes, I know where her heart lies. A stern talking to is all she has to fear," he assured me, a small smile playing on his lips at the thought of Mrs. Macleod.

I wondered why Sam wasn't shown so much mercy.

I nodded, shooting him another grateful look.

I decided to take advantage of his talkative mood and press my luck. "What happened to Samuel?" I asked hesitantly, glancing at him from beneath my lashes.

He hesitated. "He defied me," he said at last.

He chuckled quietly, which surprised me. "Actually, he yelled at me," he mused. "He was sticking up _for you_ ," he threw hiz gaze at me to catch my reaction.

"Me? Why would he do that?"

Dean shrugged. "It beats me why the entire household seems to be so taken with you. I've never seen Sam so angry. It was a sight to behold." I said nothing, but was undoubtedly shocked. I made a mental note to thank him profusely before asking him if he had lost his mind.

"I am sorry for causing you so much grief," I whispered meekly, in hopes of appeasing the agitation I heard growing in his voice.

He turned, gazing at me. His eyes fell to the darkened skin of my cheek once again. "I could say the same," he said softly. "Sometimes I do not know my own strength," he glanced past me, out the window where twilight was falling and the moon was rising outside the castle.

I nodded weakly, not entirely sure if that was his attempt at an apology or if he was just thinking out loud. I pondered his words briefly, realizing I didn't have it in my heart to forgive him at that moment for what he had done to me, for everything he had done to me, especially since his attempt at expressing a fraction of remorse was so meager, and I wasn't sure if I ever could.

"You seem melancholy," he spoke after a few moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

I scoffed quietly. "And why would I have any reason to be happy?" The words came out with more of an edge than I had intended, but he didn't chide me.

"More than usual," he responded thoughtfully.

"I am," I admitted. "But I admit it is also due to my boredom. I haven't left this room in nearly a week, and it's becoming a torturous prison," I thought about how his leave to let me read would now lessen that pain, but only slightly.

He thought for a moment. "Perhaps tomorrow I can show you around the castle - areas you haven't seen," he added.

I nodded. "I would like that," I responded honestly.

We went silent again. I stared at my book longingly, but was afraid to reach over him for it, as was I afraid to move at all.

He followed my gaze, snatching it and handing it to me.

I smiled for the first time in days.

I excitedly opened it, divulging in the first page almost instantly. I laid down, turning on my side and spread the book out on the mattress in front of me.

"What is it about?" He asked thoughtfully after a few minutes.

"I do not know," I answered honestly, wondering briefly at why he was being so civil with me. We were talking-actually talking. We weren't yelling or fighting, and more importantly he wasn't scolding me. He seemed genuinely interested and it was a surprise to me. Why would he care what I was reading, what I liked to read?

"Mrs. Macleod picked it," I spoke carefully, remembering he already knew this. "I think it was just the first one she saw, but it doesn't really matter to me either way. "

"What would you prefer?"

I thought. "Romance novels," I answered at last. They had always been my favorite. "And stories of adventure have always captivated me."

He contemplated silently for a few moments. "I don't believe I own many of those. Perhaps we can check the library tomorrow and see what is there. I haven't been in there in years."

I brightened significantly. "I would like that very much," I said gratefully, wondering over the possibility of walls of books. He caught my gaze with an amused look and I could see that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

"Where did a woman such as yourself learnt to read?" He pondered.

"My mother," I answered softly. "My father taught her when they married."

He nodded thoughtfully. "She encourages your learning?" He asked.

"Encouraged," I corrected sadly.

His eyes caught mine and I noted sadness in them. For the first time, I felt like he truly understood what I was feeling. I wondered for the hundredth time about his own mysterious past.

"What happened?"

"Don't know," I hesitated. "She grew sick when I was very young. Some thought it was a plague, some a fever. All we really know is that it took her from us," I explained sadly. "My father raised me alone my whole life. I was his everything and he was mine." I glanced solemnly past him, missing my father with a sudden fury. I thought of how lonely he must be, how sad. I envisioned him eating dinner by himself at our small dining room table and blinked back tears.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. I glanced at him, the pure honesty and gentleness he was expressing tonight had shocked me more than I had expected. I wondered if he was only acting this way out of guilt.

"You miss him," he spoke quietly at last.

"With my whole heart," I agreed, unable to look at him.

We were silent for a few more moments.

"Why didn't you eat," he asked, gesturing to my half bitten sandwich on the table nearby.

I looked up from my book again, wondering why he was asking me so many mundane questions and voiced my curiosity as I felt my bravery slowly returning.

"I wasn't hungry. Why are you interrogating me?" There was an edge to my voice.

His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me for noticing that you lose more weight every day. Keep it up and you'll wither away to nothing. Starving yourself will gain you nothing and your stubbornness will kill you if you persist."

I shut my book in frustration, unable to concentrate any longer and laid back against the pillow, shutting my eyes tightly. I wondered if I pretended he wasn't there, would he disappear? _Unlikely_.

"I'm tired," I said at last, hoping he would leave me alone so I could rest in peace.

"Me too," he said, reaching over to blow the candle out at our bedside. I set my book on the nightstand and turned away from him as gently as I could, hugging my pillow close.

The room was silent for a long time. I could hear his soft breathing behind me. He seemed to have fallen asleep. I laid there for a long time, as exhausted as I was, unable to succumb to sleep. I shifted a bit restlessly, trying to get comfortable and whimpering quietly each time I accidentally hit a bruise.

I jumped slightly when I felt his strong arm wrap around my waste and tugged me gently back into his frame. I cried out in pain as he jostled me, but quickly settled as it subsided.

I grunted, pushing against his arm helplessly.

"Stop," he said curtly, an edge to his voice I didn't dare defy. I rolled my eyes defiantly and let my body go slack beneath the weight of his warm arm.

He pulled the blankets around the both of us and pulled me tighter against his chest as his arm slipped further around my slim waist.

At first, I fidgeted uncomfortably in his grasp until I felt his soothing fingertips running gently across my skin. He started with my arm, running them gently along the skin there, raising goose bumps in his wake and soothing the hurt he had caused, tenderly avoiding my bruises.

He continued his motions, his hands wondering my aching skin gently and I found myself relaxing despite my best efforts to remain agitated by his touch.

His hand slipped to my hair, gently brushing it away from my face and running his hands through it. My eyes closed at the sensation as he lulled me to sleep.

Exhaustion crept into my bones as I felt myself truly relaxing in his arms, feeling comfortable and safe, which seemed _absurd_ I had to admit.

He knew what I needed. He knew what my body wanted even when I didn't-or refused to believe it. He knew that for some incomprehensible reason I couldn't find sleep unless in his arms, that I couldn't relax until my body found the comfort of his.

It perplexed me that I would need this man so much; the man that hurt me more than he had helped me; the man that had made me miserable, stolen my freedom completely and taken a precious gift from me.

I was disgusted with myself for the way his embrace made me feel, but in the end I could not bring myself to fight it, as I inevitably drifted to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke the next morning expecting to find myself alone once again, but had to admit my shock when I turned to find Dean watching me. He had always been an early riser, gone long before I stirred in the morning. Yet, looked like he had been awake for some time, just _watching_ me.

I shifted uncomfortably as I gazed back at him cautiously.

"Sleep well?" he asked at last.

I nodded, hugging the sheets. I noted that I was feeling quite a bit better and my body ached substantially less.

He rolled out of bed, and I studied him as he began digging through one of his dressers for clothes. I watched the way the lean muscles of his back tugged and contracted with his every movement, how his strong arms seemed to command everything they touched.

He dressed quickly and turned to watch me hesitantly as I gingerly got out of bed myself. He waited, like he was waiting for me to fall over, but I didn't. I moved slowly to my own dresser and began combing through the beautiful dresses at my disposal.

"Wear the green one," he said softly, watching me where he leaned against the wall casually. I stared, glancing at him curiously as I fingered the rich green material.

"If you want," he added after a moment. "It's not an order," he clarified.

I nodded, grabbing the green dress and laying it on the bed. I glanced at it quickly in admiration.

"Do you need help?" I turned to see him still looking at me.

I shook my head. "I'll manage, thank you."

He nodded, hesitating at the door.

"Meet me at the entrance hall when you are dressed, I'd like to show you around," there was a hesitation in his voice. When he spoke, it was like he was unsure, something I'd never experienced around him before. He was usually the picture of arrogance and confidence, always in control. Now he seemed like he was charting uncharted territory, and like a kid on their first day of school, he wasn't quite sure what to expect or where the day was headed.

I also noted the bit of freedom he was giving me, not escorting me everywhere and wondered if he was beginning to trust me, ever so slightly. I wondered briefly if I could ever trust him, but decided the fury in which his moods changed made the prospect a very difficult one.

I dressed quickly, all things considered, and ran the brush through my hair quickly before pulling it into a high ponytail and tying it with a bright green piece of ribbon. I admired the elegant look of the dress quickly in the mirror before venturing down the hall after him.

He was pacing slowly, bouncing on his feet ever so slightly as he moved around the room. He held both arms behind his back in a commanding gesture as he moved, his face creased in a mask of concentration.

He turned when he heard me, watching me approach with a look I couldn't quite distinguish.

"Are you hungry?" he asked casually. "Would you like something for breakfast?"

I shook my head. "I don't usually eat breakfast," I answered truthfully. He nodded. "Unless of course you want to eat then we can..."

"No, I had something while I was waiting for you," he shook his head dismissively.

He contemplated. "I know what I want to show you first," he mused after a moment. "Follow me."

We moved down many halls and up many stairs as I once again became lost in the enormity of the castle. We moved through a large room with a grand staircase carpeted in a rich red. The room was tiled and looked like it would be a ballroom for hosting dances and events. I pondered whether it had ever been properly used and allowed myself to wonder at the possibilities of the space as we walked through it.

"This is beautiful," I whispered.

"Mmm, though not what I wanted to show you," there was a sparkle in his eyes as we moved through the room and behind the expanse of beautifully crafted double doors.

He glanced at me briefly, and what looked like excitement crossed his features before he opened the doors wide and revealed one of the most beautiful sights I'd seen in my life.

Beyond the doors was a wide terrace, spanning half the second floor of the castle. There were hand carved stone benches, vines that clung to the rich stone of the balcony and trees, whose tops just skimmed the outer edge of the surface. I marveled at the way the entire place seemed to glimmer in the morning sun. He watched me with a small smile, something that brought me almost as much amazement as the balcony.

"it's gorgeous," I breathed.

"This is where I come to think," he admitted.

I studied his side profile as he gazed out onto the grounds around the castle. He was probably remembering how beautiful they had once been, how beautiful they could be again with a little work, but all I was wondering was what had happened to this man? I wondered at how he became the person he was as I traced the lines of his strong jaw with my eyes. I saw the power and command his stance required, the air of arrogance that surrounded him, but in that small smile that threatened to burst, twitching on the corner of his mouth as he gazed forward, I saw... a boy.

"Y/N," he said at last, turning to me and catching me off guard. I'd been so lost in him that I wondered how long we'd been standing there.

"I understand how painfully bored you must be here," he hesitated thoughtfully, glancing back towards the castle gates. "If I give you the freedom to move about the castle as you wish, with the exception of my office, can I trust you not to make me regret it?"

I blinked at him in surprise. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Yes," I breathed. "I promise!"

He nodded curtly. "You are still expected to be on time for dinner and afterwards retire to my room with me," he clarified.

I nodded in understanding.

"Good," he said at last. "I have a feeling you'll like our next stop better," he commented with a playful smirk. My heart skipped a beat.

On the way to out "exciting next stop" on the castle tour, he commented on a few things and showed me a few rooms briefly as we passed. The castle was like a maze in which I was quickly finding myself less and less lost. There were many guest rooms and wings, and sitting rooms. He showed me the kitchen, some of his favorite paintings, as well as gave me a bit of a history lesson on the castle, all things I pleasantly found myself enjoying.

At last we came to a set of large double doors at the end of a hallway, he paused, glancing back at me quickly before moving to open the door for me and motion me in with an emotionless expression.

My heart stopped upon entering the room. From floor to ceiling on every wall were books of every size, shape and color. If I hadn't moments before been living in hell, I'd swear I had actually died and gone to heaven.

I gasped, rushing quickly to the closest wall of shelves and running my hand across the spines of the books tenderly, a stupid smile plastered on my face.

"There are so many," I breathed in awe, beaming as I picked a book off the shelf and skimmed it briefly.

He came up behind me quietly.

"They're all at your disposal, any time you want."

"Thank you," I almost whispered.

"Does this make you happy?" He asked hesitantly after a few moments.

I turned to him, slightly perplexed by the question. He had his arms folded in front of him as he watched me admire the book in my hands.

I nodded, shooting him a grateful look. He nodded in return stuffing his hand in his pocket.

"Pick out a few to bring with you if you want," he encouraged.

I practically skipped towards the shelf once again.

I turned to him with a hesitant look. "Do you mind if I stay here... for a while?" I asked cautiously, testing his good mood.

He shook his head dismissively. "Not at all. I, uh, have some things to take care of anyways, I'll see you at dinner," he nodded at me before turning to leave me alone with thousands of the things that brought me so much happiness. I smiled at how quickly things had turned around and turned my attention to the shelves in front of me again, though I couldn't help but ponder how quickly they could turn back-his moods as unpredictable as the weather.

Time passed entirely too quickly as I lost myself in the world of endless fantasies throughout the day, never having had access to this many stories in my life. I decided on a large pile that looked promising and carried them with me to a cozy spot on the floor in a corner. I'd always preferred to stretch out and indulge as opposed to sitting upright when I read, and I found the floor, although a seemingly inappropriate place for a young lady to lounge-though I'd never really fit the stereotype, was the opportune place to read.

After several hours of reading, I found my lids drooping but paid them no mind, fighting back the exhaustion in my eyes that seemed to beg for rest. Without ever realizing I'd drifted off to sleep, I was being started awake to an almost entirely dark room; the echo of the doors slamming surrounded me.

I sat up, brushing the sleep from my eyes and the hair from my face as I glanced around in confusion.

"Where have you been," His sharp tone inquired from above me. I glanced up to see him glaring down at me with piercing eyes.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I must have dozed off. What time is it?" I asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

"Seven thirty," he responded impatiently.

"I'm... late for dinner."

"I knew it was a mistake letting you out of my sight. You haven't followed any of my rules since you came here, why on earth did I expect you to start now? Get up," he ordered.

I stood as quickly as I could, brushing the dust of the floor from my dress and smoothing my skirts as best I could.

"Why are you so incompetent," he growled.

"I'm sorry..."

"I'm sick of ' I'm sorry'!" He growled. "You're always apologizing because you're always fucking up," he snapped.

I blinked. "I fell asleep," I protested. "I'm human, it happens, _I am sorry_. I don't know what else you want me to say," I snapped.

"I don't want you to say anything; you already talk far more than I care to listen to. I want you to go dress for dinner. Now," he snapped, pointing to the door like a father angry at his child.

"You need to learn some patience," I mumbled as I strode towards the door angrily.

"You need to learn how to shut your mouth," he shouted after me as I stormed out of the room, fists clenched. I was entirely too sick of him telling me what to do. I hated not having any freedom or control over my life. I hated how he scolded me like a child. I hated how completely unreasonable he could be.

I followed the dimly lit hallways back towards his room- _our_ room-unsure what exactly it was to me. I found the maze of hallways and stairwells now becoming more familiar as I traced them in haste. I passed through the entrance way of the castle and shivered as a gust of cold air hit my skin. I turned towards the draft curiously, shocked to find the front door open just a crack, the howling night winds pushing their way in, blowing a few flurries along with them.

I stopped in my tracks.

The door was open. It was so close.

He wasn't there to stop me.

I could leave. I could escape this place right now.

I couldn't stop myself from wondering what would happen if he caught me, from imagining how his temper would flare out of control. If he had lost it over a book or me falling asleep, I couldn't imagine the repercussions of this.

But if he didn't.

I could be free of this place, be with my father again, make sure he was okay, have a life again, escape the pain and hell he caused me each day and night.

I only let myself think about how happy he had made me today, or how I would actually miss Mrs. Macleod and Sam for a moment before lunging for the door without another thought.

I sprinted out the door and back down the long drive of the castle, through the gates that he apparently never bothered to lock, and ran back towards the forest. I shivered in the cold night wearing only my dress but I didn't care, I was free, free of the castle, free of him. All I had to do was keep running, running until I ran into someone or into a small town where someone could help me, where I could make my way home.

I shivered again as a snowy gust of wind cut through my skin and mentally kicked myself for not thinking this through further. I kept running into the dark expanse of the forest, not looking back until I was out of breath and had put enough distance between myself and hell that I felt safe enough to slow to a brisk walk. I panted, hugging myself tightly as I found the path I had followed on the way here on my horse.

My breath came out in spurts in front of me, and I could see it in the cool night air. I wondered how long it would take me on foot to reach somewhere warm or someone to help me. I could die out here in the cold, but if I stayed was I not dead anyways? What was the point of the captive life I'd been living? Surely death would be more peaceful than the misery I faced anyways.

I glanced around the dark forest, jumping ever so slightly at the rustle of the leaves in the wind or the sound of branches snapping beneath my feet in a rather paranoid gesture. I was easily spooked and beginning to regret my decision not to plan my escape a little more thoroughly.

I walked on a while longer before I heard the distant sound of men talking and my heart leapt. I hadn't expected to come upon help this quickly and raced towards the distant mumble of voices.

There were three men crowded around a horse pulling a large cart. They were lounging around a small fire they had made and passing a bottle between them. They seemed to be merchants or traders making their way to a nearby town that had rested for the night.

They looked up as I ran towards them, confusion etched on their faces. They looked at one another, raising their eyebrows in speculation before back at me.

"Hello there Missy, what in God's name are you doing all the way out here this time of night?" One of the men asked, taking another long drink from the nearly empty bottle as he eyed me curiously. He was tall, well built with dark hair and a low hat that shaded his eyes. He seemed to me to be the man in charge, as the others watched his every move to see what he would do.

I breathed quickly as I cautiously stepped closer. "I need your help," I breathed. "I'm trying to get home. Is there anyways you could take me with you to the nearest village so I can accommodate a horse and a warm meal?"

"We have places to be, girl, we can't very well stop and pick up every hitchhiker we come across," he mused, leaning against the side of the cart with a devious glare.

"Please," I protested. "You don't understand, I have been held against my will by this man and I am-"

I was cut off by a roar of laughter. "Your silly tales will not sway us, darling," the same man chuckled.

"Perhaps we can give you a hand, for the right price."

"But I haven't anything to give you, I ran away and I-"

He stepped forward, narrowing the space between us. "I'm sure we could work something out," he insisted, his eyes wondering the expanse of my body before meeting my frightened gaze once more. He reached forward to run his hand across the side of my face as I shrunk away from him.

"What's a pretty little thing like you really doing out here all alone," he asked, one of his hands gripping my arm tightly.

"I told you-"

"No matter, have a little fun with me and my boys and we'll take you with us to town," he persuaded, his hand running the length of my body.

I shook my head, shoving him as hard as I could away from me.

He gripped my arm tighter, chuckling darkly. "She's feisty, boys," he called and they laughed in return, each of them stepping closer, surrounding me as they gazed at me with animalistic eyes.

"No," I breathed. "Let me go, I'll find my own way. Stop it, you can't do this" I protested, kicking the man holding me as hard as I could.

"Bitch," he yelled, striking me as he pulled me close, forcing his lips onto mine.

"Not again," I breathed as I fought against him.

"Ever heard the expression if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, will it make a sound?" He asked with an arrogant edge to his voice.

I glared at him. "Let me give you a hunt darling, you're the tree," he whispered, reaching for the hem of my dress and beginning to yank it up. "Yell all you want, no one is going to hear you."

Another one of the man pulled at my dress and I stumbled trying to fight him off as well, landing in the cold snow. I pushed myself up meekly glancing back at them in fear as they all gazed down at me with hungry eyes.

I saw the man in the hat reach for the hem of his pants and I winced in fear. "I get her first," he growled, advancing on me again.

"More than one of us can have her at a time, Tim," another argued.

"I want her alone first, then you guys can have at her," he growled, shoving me once again back into the snow, I winced as my head hit the ground and shivered as the cold wet substance surrounded me.

"Jesus Christ!" One of the men yelled from where they stood watching. I blinked, trying to clear the falling snow from my eyes as I gazed in his direction.

He was holding his jaw tenderly, a shocked expression on his face as he gazed towards the forest. I followed his line of vision and much to my surprise laid eyes on _Dean_.

His fists were clenched so tightly they were white, and his jaw set in the familiar tight line I was so used to when his temper flared. Yet, I've never seen him that furious. He was breathing deeply and his stance suggested pure rage.

He turned towards the man that had been trying to attack me and spat in clear and concise words, "Release her."

"It's none of your business, be on your way," the man argued.

"She is my business. You have no idea the power I possess in this land. If you don't let her go, you don't know the trouble you are asking for," he warned darkly.

"Fuck off," he replied simply, turning on me once again. I cringed away from him, crawling away from him on the ground.

The truth was I didn't know which outcome was better for me. If I stayed here, I would endure an unbearable amount of pain and humiliation at the hands of these three strangers, but just maybe keep my freedom. If I left with Dean again, it was back to a life of captivity and I would no doubt have to answer to him and to the unbearable rage in his eyes for what I had done.

"Take care of him" the man nodded to his men before grabbing for me again as I rolled away from him.

"Sit still bitch," he roared, endless in his pursuits.

I could hear the sound of fighting going on near us, but couldn't see what was happening. My only concern was to stay out of this man's control and maybe by some miracle escape this scene all together.

I could hear grunting, flesh hitting flesh, swearing and cries of pain and anger.

The man that had been so relentlessly pursuing me the entire time finally grabbed a hold of me and pinned me to the ground. "Don't worry about him darling, he won't be a problem for you much longer," he whispered, tugging at the hem of his pants again.

He was losing? Were they killing him? A lightning bolt of pain and panic pierced my chest at his words and I didn't let myself stop to think why before I began struggling adamantly to break away from this man and see if Dean was still alive.

He had come out here to save me, and was now going to pay the ultimate price for it. I had to do something.

"Stop," I cried. "Stop, please. You can have me, if you let him go," I whispered, not believing the words that were leaving my mouth.

The men halted in the actions. There was a long silence of contemplation.

"Let him go. Tie her up and throw her in the back of the cart. We'll take her with us and have our fun later," the man that was holding me down ordered. He spat on the ground next to me before giving me a swift kick in the ribs and standing.

I winced, holding my side. Two of the other men grabbed me, pulling me up and I struggled against them in one last ditch effort to free myself. I waited till they were all surrounding me, each one of them concentrating on my flailing form and the easiest way to get the rope around my limbs. I fought, hopefully giving Dean a few distracted moments to do something before I started kicking as hard as I could. I caught one man precisely where it hurt and another across the stomach.

I saw Dean grabbing one of the men from behind and twist his neck sharply to the side. There was a loud snap and the man fell lifeless to the ground.

I gasped in horror.

Dean took advantage of the shock of the moment and grabbed another man, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Let her go and get lost or he suffers the same fate," he said calmly.

They released me, and Dean wasted no time in grabbing me by the arm and pulling me away from the entire scene fiercely. I tripped, nearly toppling over as I struggled to walk through the pain in my side and he growled in frustration, grabbing me and swooping me into his arms as he carried me bridal style. I wrapped my arms lightly around his neck to keep from falling.

I gazed up at his face, his jaw was rigid as he gazed ahead, and there was fire in his eyes. I noticed his cheek was marked from the fight but that he otherwise seemed fine. I wondered if he was ever really in danger of losing and felt like a fool for offering myself to save the man that was once again dragging me back to captivity.

I felt like a complete idiot and utterly defeated. Dean always had control of the situation, always had the upper hand and always thought everything through. I was foolish and stupid. My entire escape had been doomed from the start. What was I thinking? Truth was if it wasn't for him I'd probably be dead.

A cold gust of wind surrounded us and I shivered again I my cold and wet garments as I curled into his warm flesh. I closed my eyes in defeat and surrendered to my fate once again.

After a few minutes of trudging through the forest we came to a stop and I opened my eyes.

He let me down and I spotted my horse Philippe, tied to a tree nearby.

I suppressed a smile. I'd left him in the forest the day I came to search for my father, but has assumed he'd run off. Dean must have grabbed him and kept him safe.

"Philippe," I whispered.

He untied Philippe and jumped up on his back before extending a hand towards me, his eyes still on fire.

I hesitated.

"Y/N," he warned curtly. I took his hand and allowed him to pull me up behind him.

I reluctantly wrapped my arms around his torso to keep from falling as he started towards the castle.

He had stewed the entire ride back; his anger growing with each passing minute and by the time we reached the front doors of the castle, I could tell he was fuming.

Sam came out to grab Philippe and shot me a pitiful glance. Dean grabbed me by the arm roughly and pulled me into the warmth of the castle.

He dragged me angrily up the stairs behind him and I winced slightly. I was quickly learning to ignore pain in this new life and I wasn't sure it was a good thing.

As we climbed more and more stairs I quickly realized we were headed for the tower and cringed.

I found it difficult to climb the stairs after a few minutes and began clenching my side in pain.

He said nothing and showed no patience for me as he pulled me along harder.

He opened the doors abruptly and the smell of hay, rat droppings and decay surrounded me again. I shivered from the coolness of the room and realized it was about the same temperature as outside, minus the wind-chill.

He pushed me hard into the room and I fell to the ground, scraping my arm against the cement floor.

"You can stay here and think about what you've done," he spat coldly, eyeing me from my place on the floor with anger and betrayal.

I considered apologizing to appease him, but realized I wasn't sorry. How could I be sorry for trying to escape captivity and gain my freedom back? I wasn't and never would be. The only thing I was sorry for was not planning it through before I ran off.

"You're such a fool," he roared. "What did you think was going to happen? You were going to run all the way home to daddy? I should have let them have you," he paced the room, his anger not dissipating; instead it seemed to be growing the more he thought about it.

"Should have watched while each of them had their way with you like the little whore you are," he growled, eyeing me as he continued to pace.

He narrowed in on me, kneeling in front of me as he glared at me with hate.

"I would have enjoyed it," he growled, running his hand the length of my body, possessively gripping each crevice.

"Such a stupid girl, why do you continue to defy me when you know it gets you nowhere," he roared, his breath coming out in short spurts, hot on my face.

He reached forward and wrapped one of his strong hands around my neck, the same arm I had seen end a life mere hours ago. "I don't know why I bothered saving your ungrateful worthless ass. You will not defy me in this way again, Y/N. You will never escape this place, you will rot here, get that through your pretty little head."

"Do you understand?" He hissed.

"Yes!" I croaked.

"You can rot in here for all I care," he said with finality, standing abruptly and exiting the room, slamming the door in his wake.

The walls echoed with hate and destruction, each sound reminding me of the anger in his soul anger I caused.

One step forward and ten steps back, that's the way it always seemed to be with him. He was right, I had been stupid. He had every right to be angry, but what I didn't understand was what he had come after me and saved my life, and what I didn't understand even more was why I'd offered to do the same for him.

I shivered as the first tear fell. I had never felt more broken or helpless than I did right now. I wanted nothing more than to be held, but the only man that would ever hold me now hated me beyond repair, and I hated myself.


	7. Chapter 7

Sleep didn't come easily that night. Between the constant shivers that wracked my body and the pace at which my mind was reeling, I couldn't bring myself to relax enough to succumb to it.

I must have dozed off eventually, for I was woken with a start when I heard the tower door open roughly. I glanced up, uncurling myself from the fetal position I'd been huddled in.

Dean glanced down at me with cold eyes, and I found myself once again unable to read his expression. "Learn anything last night?" He sniped, inching closer.

I hugged myself closer, noting how ice cold my skin was from the long night in the tower.

"I asked you a question!"

"I will not be foolish enough to run away again, if that's what you're getting at," I managed through chattering teeth.

"You've got that right, and if you are, I'll snap that pretty little neck in half." I shuddered.

He knelt down so he was eye level with me, searching my face. "Cold up here, isn't it?" He mused.

I nodded, trying to tame my shivering.

I met his gaze. There was a softness to it for a moment, an almost reconciled look in his eyes, until suddenly it was gone and the fire that had burned behind them since the night before returned.

He stood abruptly, frowning at me for one long moment before turning to leave once again, locking the door behind him.

Dean left me like that for hours. I had no real way of knowing how long, but to me, nothing had ever felt longer. Eternity could have passed and I would have believed it.

Eventually, I heard muffled voices outside the door to the tower and glanced in their direction hopefully. I hugged my knees to my chest as I huddled in the corner of the dreary room, trying to find warmth any way I could.

"It's not your place to decide," I heard Dean's short temper through the door and cringed.

"Leaving the poor girl her in the cold, freezing to the point where she can't move isn't going to do either of you any good!" Mrs. Macleod protested bravely. I marveled at how she dared stand up to him when he was in such a state of mind, and smiled at her bravery.

"I'm warning you; remember your place," he scowled.

"Remember yours!" She warned curtly.

"Rowena!" He growled.

The door opened nonetheless, and the look that crossed the woman's face at the sight of me was something I will forever wish I could erase from my memory. I never wanted to see that much pain in her expression again, and despite the situation, I wished dearly that I could take it away.

"For goodness sake, dearie," she gasped. Her eves narrowing as a look of anger crossed her face, something I wasn't used to seeing there.

She turned on Dean, eyeing him as she defied him bravely. He entered the room, slowly.

"If you're trying to teach her a lesson, I think she's learned it, Winchester! For goodness sake, you're going to do nothing but kill her if you keep her in here like this. She's frozen to the bone," she huffed and came to kneel gently in front of me, touching my arm.

I coughed as I hugged myself tighter, leaning into her tiny form for warmth, closing my eyes at the sensation. "She's ice cold!" Mrs. Rowena whispered, angrily.

"Why do I care if she dies? This is her punishment," Dean growled from behind her as he lingered in the doorway.

"How much longer are you planning on _punishing_ her, Winchester? She's been living in hell since she came here. There's a thin line between punishment and death and I think you've about crossed it. Do you realize how sick you've made her?!" She scolded, placing her hand gently on my forehead.

Mrs. Macleod stood abruptly, mumbling to herself in a disapproving tone.

"I'm going to get Samuel carry this girl down by the fire so she can warm up. If you think you're going to stop me, I'd like to see you try!" She placed herself between his body and mine and my heart swelled at what she was trying to do for me, how she stood up for me against him. "Go ahead! I dare you, _boy_!"

He stood there, staring at her with contempt as his eyes narrowed. His jaw was ridged and tight but he merely stood there defiantly, fists balled and unmoving.

She nodded abruptly after a moment and moved past him. "Why is it that you won't lay a hand on me but find it so easy to throw her around? Think about it," she snapped before bustling out the door as quickly as she could.

He groaned in agitation before turning on me once again. He eyed me with annoyance but much to my surprise made no move towards me. He just glared at me with contempt and I watched his mind reeling before me. He looked a bit like a scolded Rottweiler puppy, one that hated to be told what to do.

He glared at me for another long moment before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, slamming the door in his wake, the vibrations coursing through my soul long after he was gone.

"Give me that," I heard Mrs. Macleod say gently a few moments later. She opened the door softly with a small reassuring smile, a warm blanket in hand. She entered gingerly, Samuel's solemn face followed close behind.

He only met my frightened gaze for a moment before lowering his with a sigh.

Mrs. Rowena approached me with caution, wrapping the warm blanket around my shivering torso. "You're white as a ghost," she whispered sadly, pulling the blanket tighter against me. I was thankful for the warmth and coverage it brought and clung to it with my life.

She nodded towards Sam. "Gently," she encouraged, noting how many bruises marked my skin from the night before. She brushed the mark on my face tenderly.

"Y/N, is it alright if I pick you up?" He asked cautiously, moving to gradually place one arm on my back, as the other found my legs. He hesitated, waiting for my permission.

I nodded, clutching my blanket as he lifted me bridal style in his arms.

"Let's go," Mrs. Macleod encouraged, bustling out the door in front of us with purpose.

Sam took great care as he carried me down endless hallways towards where I knew the main hearth and sitting room to be. He held me steady, cautious not to jostle me or grip me too tightly. I curled into his chest and the warmth that radiated from it, letting out a painful cough.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with grief. I hadn't the slightest clue what he was sorry for; he had no control over what his master chose to do, but I nodded nonetheless, curling further into his frame.

"Sam," I whispered after a few minutes, as my shivers began to cease in the warmer parts of the castle.

"Yes," he encouraged.

"Did you ever marry?" I wondered, gazing at the slight wrinkles that adorned his decently handsome face, and the way grey hair was seeping into the scruff of his jaw, taking up more and more of it each day.

I wanted to distract myself from the agony that haunted me each second.

He smiled meekly. "No, Y/N, I didn't. Though there is a woman that works in the kitchens here at the castle that I find much happiness with, and she with me. Perhaps one day, with the master's permission... though for now I am more than happy with her company," he answered honestly.

"She is very lucky," I replied softly. I knew he was the kind of man to be sweet with her, to hold her and love her and never cause her the pain Dean so frequently caused me. "Maybe one day I will find a man as gentle as you," I whispered, blinking back tears at the hopeless thought.

"I have absolute faith in it," he whispered back.

When we entered the sitting room, Mrs. Rowena lit the fire instantly, adding as much wood as she could find. Sam set me down on a lounge chair in front of it, but I crawled from it instantly, moving to lie almost directly in the flames. It was the largest fireplace in the castle and I couldn't get enough of its warmth as the heat of the flames surrounded me.

Mrs. Rowena brought a dish of water and a rag to clean my wounds and allow me to rinse my face. She also brought me a nightgown to slip into, and upon putting it on, I immediately grabbed my warm blanket again, curling up in it in front of the roaring fire.

"Thank you," I whispered to both her and Samuel with the little energy I had left. I laid there, watching the flames dance before my eyes, each different from the last. My body slowly warmed to the point where I succumbed to my body's exhaustion and found peace in the serenity of my dreams, the only place I seemed to be able to find peace in this Hell.

It felt like an eternity later that I finally stirred, opening my eyes to the flicker of a dying fire. I felt substantially better, aside from the endless bumps and bruises I now accepted as a part of this life. I yawned in the dimming light of the room, reveling in the peace of the moment that would no doubt be interrupted all too soon.

I glanced beneath my warm blanket to make sure I was in fact now dressed in my nightgown, but reluctant to give it up just yet, pulled the fabric closer to my body and curled back up in the blanket as I laid, staring at the fire and hugging the fabric closely.

I suddenly felt dirty from the last events and wished I could reclaim the skin I lived in that seemed to no longer belong to me, the skin that was tainted with his finger prints and the endless bruises of this new life. I reached up and tentatively touched the broken skin of my face, noting it had begun to heal but was still tender. I hissed at the sensation, whimpering in slight pain. I wished all my pain would just end.

I moved the blanket and took a moment to examine once again the dark bruises of my hips and abdomen. I was riddled with dark purples and yellows. I could barely stand to look at myself.

"Repulsive," I mumbled, covering myself up.

"It would take a lot more than a few ugly bruises to ruin the loveliness of your body."

I jumped, turning to see Dean sitting in a red velvet chair behind me, gazing past me at the fireplace. I sat up, inching away from him as I hugged the blanket tightly against me.

"Stop shaking. If I were here to hurt you, I'd have done it already," His gaze shifted back to my frightened form and I noted the casual way he was watching me, one arm draped across a knee raised in calculation. I wondered how long he'd been there.

"Whenever you're truly frightened, you seem to lose that sharp tongue of yours. What? No sarcastic reply? Ran out of names to call me?" He sniped.

I glared at him.

"You ran," he said at last.

"How could you expect that I would never try to," I asked incredulously.

"You betrayed my trust."

"You have to understand why I did it."

He nodded. "What I still can't figure out is the stupidity... you didn't think it through at all... you acted so foolishly. I expected a calculated well thought out escape plan, not a run through the woods on a whim. What the Hell got into you? I was expecting catching you to be quite the challenge," he added with a small smirk.

I closed my eyes with a sigh. That I agreed with.

"I saw an opportunity and ceased it at the wrong time. I had to know... my father... I had to know he was okay.. .I just..." I sighed. "I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I was always wondering what if I'd ran, what if I'd gotten free... if I'm going to be trapped here for life, I don't think I could have lived with the regret of not trying. If only for that reason, I'm glad I did. For an hour, I was free," I whispered, staring at the ground as I clutched the blanket closer, afraid at any moment he would take it from me again and throw me back in the tower.

He was quiet for a long time, watching me as he considered my words.

"I just actually thought that maybe... Shit, you fooled me!" He shook his head. "It won't happen again," he assured himself.

I thought back to the night before, and the countless emotions I'd seen in his eyes since he found me in that forest. I knew he was hurt by what I'd done, but how could I be sorry for it.

"Thank you for saving my life," I whispered, glancing up at him from behind my lashes.

There was a long silence before he nodded curtly.

I studied his cold expression. It seemed as though he'd retreated from me and was somehow much further away then he'd been only yesterday. Yesterday seemed like an eternity ago, and I hated that we had shattered the little bridge that had been built between us and that we were back at square one, shooting calculating gazes at each other, each of us afraid to make the wrong move.

My eyes scanned his hardened features, and I inched closer to him as I realized the wound on his jaw and cheek still hadn't been cleaned or tended to, and small amounts of dry blood still surrounded it.

He'd gotten that for me.

I sighed as I cautiously sat up straight, reaching for the bowl and cloth that Mrs. Macleod had left nearby. I dipped the rag in and rung it out gently before moving to stand carefully.

He allowed me to sit on the arm of the chair he occupied and did nothing as I gently reached forward and dabbed his wound clean.

Dean watched me, not saying a word, but not objecting to what I was doing.

"You baffle me," he breathed.

I halted my actions, confused by his words.

"Countless bruises are covering your skin, each one caused because of me. How can you bring yourself to care about a scrape on mine?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly as his eyes searched mine.

"It sort of was my fault, too, I admit," I answered in a deflective manner.

He reached up and gently ceased my wrist, lowering it to my side. He moved to gently cup my jaw in his strong hand, his thumb brushing over the marks with a tender touch.

"Why do you do this to me, Y/N?" He whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my face tenderly. My breath hitched.

"Do what?"

He shook his head dismissively, wincing.

"Go to bed."

I paused, confused by what that meant.

"Our bed-my bed. I'll be there in a few moments, we both need a good night's rest," he added dismissively.

I nodded hesitantly, setting the cloth down and grabbing the blanket I'd grown so attached to.

"Leave it." He added quickly, "I'll keep you warm."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean left me alone for the next few days. Things had fallen back into a sort of routine, yet everything was different. We barely spoke. We were peaceful yet unmoving.

We were lifeless.

My numerous wounds began to heal and I gained my strength back. 

I passed most of my time reading, and for reasons I would never understand he had reinstated my privileges to roam the castle. Maybe he realized I'd never be foolish enough to try and leave again, fearing his wrath more than ever, but I couldn't be certain. Things had basically gone back to the way that they were, yet they hadn't.

I spent a lot of time in the library, and more time than ever with Mrs. Macleod and Samuel, finding that I enjoyed their company and growing friendship more each day.

Mrs. Rowena told me of her family and I met a few of her children that worked in the kitchens and cleaned the castle. Sam promised to introduce me to the woman that owned his heart, though I'd still yet to meet her.

Through their friendship, I found myself enjoying moments spent within the castle walls. I laughed, something that had become foreign to me, and on occasion, I even smiled wholeheartedly.

One afternoon I found myself bored of the library, and decided to wander around the castle. I was lonely, the servants were all busy and I had grown tired of amusing myself. I wondered if Dean realized how much he left me alone; though I was sure it wasn't high on his priority list of things to worry about.

It was also true that for the most part, I found the less time I spent with him, the safer I was - though I couldn't figure out why it was that I found myself craving the moments I spent with him as much as I dreaded them.

I walked through the castle's long halls, glancing at paintings and peeking in random doorways as I went.

I lost myself as I strolled from floor to floor. The castle was like a box of treasures, so many things I'd yet to discover about it, so much to uncover. It fascinated me.

I continued on my way until the path started to look familiar. I quickly realized I was approaching forbidden territory, as this was the part of the castle with his office-the one place he'd made clear was off limits. Samuel had told me it was called the 'Abandoned' wing, and everything most personal to his master had a home here.

I sighed, remembering the beauty of his study and the portrait that had captivated me, as well as offered me a window into the soul of a _monster_.

In the brief moments I'd glanced at the portrait, I'd seen a whole other side of the mysterious man I now shared a home with. A glimpse I longed to see again.

Curiously, I slowly crept towards the last place I was ever supposed to be. I had no idea where he spent the majority of his time, but was certain not all of it was in his study. I prayed he was somewhere else as I stepped closer still.

I tiptoed closer and peeked quietly around the frame of the door. He was glancing down, deeply consumed in the paper in front of him. I jumped slightly, surprised and frightened that he'd spot me, yet I couldn't pull myself away.

I watched him intently - the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated and pursed his lips when he was thinking.

"What are you doing here, Y/N," he glanced up and I jumped.

He raised an eyebrow and I tentatively moved into the doorway.

"Sorry... I was... lonely," I breathed, inching closer cautiously.

"What is it about you that makes you do the exact opposite of everything you're told," his tone hinted at amusement yet was laced with annoyance.

"I give you one rule and you break it," He shook his head. "I'm not surprised anymore."

"What do you mean you were lonely," he asked after a moment, surprisingly gesturing towards a chair opposite his desk. I sat hesitantly.

"I spend a lot of time by myself..." I trailed off, shrugging.

"What of the servants? I thought they'd all... befriended you or something," he questioned, folding his hands in front of his face as he gazed at me.

"They are after all your servants; they have their jobs to do."

"Perhaps I should assign you to kitchen duty then, so you wouldn't be so _lonely_ ," he mused.

I scowled. "I'm afraid I'm a servant of a different kind, equally as tiring."

He leaned back in his chair, but said nothing.

My eyes wondered and landed on the painting that hung to the right behind his desk.

"What is it with you and that god damn thing," he growled, following my gaze.

"It's beautiful," I whispered. "Your family is-"

" _Dead_ ," he finished curtly.

"I'm sorry," I said honestly, though I'd suspected as much.

He glanced at the portrait, pain crossing his features.

"My mother, Lilian...she brought sunshine into the world. She was the brightest woman for me. She had wisdom far beyond her years." he whispered, "and she was so beautiful," his voice broke on the last word. "And Joseph, my brother..." he trailed off.

"It was painted nine years ago, but it feels like yesterday." I realized that placed Dean in his late twenties.

I nodded, sadly, surprised at how much he was opening up. "His eyes, they remind me of yours," I whispered, gesturing to his father. He caught my gaze, holding it for a long moment.

"What happened to them," I pressed gently.

He was thoughtful for a long moment, glancing back at his family as he spoke. "A fire."

"What started it?"

"No one knows," he shook his head, his gaze hardening as he looked past me, lost in thought. "I always suspected foul play. My father was one of the wealthiest land owners around. He was very successful and a cousin to the king. A lot of people had much to gain from his demise, as well as that of my family."

"You... survived?"

He swallowed hard. "I wish every day that I hadn't," he admitted. "My room was the closet to the front door. I tried to help them, I remember running through the house looking for Joseph. I could hear him coughing... but I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. I had to leave. I ran out just for some air but before I could get back in to keep searching, I blacked out from the smoke. It wasn't until hours later that I woke to the sound of my uncle Robert's frightened voice and what remained of my home." His features were tormented as he spoke, but he maintained his composure.

There was a moment of solemn silence.

"Losing your family is... well there are no words to describe the pain," I offered, realizing I understood him in this moment better than I ever had. We were so different yet so, so similar.

The agony etched in his features as he stared back at me made him more human than he'd ever been.

"I guess you would understand that as well as I would," he added thoughtfully, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I bowed my head, my father's face at the forefront of my thoughts. I wonder if Dean regretted doing to me what had irrevocably changed him.

"Anyways, I became quite the rebellious young man after that, which is presumably how I got my reputation... the one you said they talk about in the village."

I nodded.

"And, here I am," he finished. He gazed at me thoughtfully. "My close ties to royalty landed me in this grand castle and I took over my father's endeavors, turning twice as much profit as he ever could." He shook his head.

"You know how, sometimes you go through life, just trying to get through... and then eventually you stop and look at where you've ended up and have no idea how you became the person you are or how you got to this place?"

I nodded.

"Why are you telling me this," I breathed, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them tightly.

He met my gaze. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry," I breathed at last.

He leaned forward. "For what?"

"I don't know. What happened to you... for shattering your trust in me... for..."

"Stop it."

I glanced up in confusion.

"Fuck, what do you have to be sorry for? I've ruined your life," He glanced past me, his face giving away nothing.

"I just... leave, Y/N. Don't come back here again. I told you this room was off limits, I've meant it."

I stared at him in confusion. "I-"

He sighed in frustration and stood, moving to stare out the window, arms folded before him in contemplation.

I stood tentatively slightly annoyed at his sudden cold shoulder, wondering what I'd done to trigger it. "Goodbye," I whispered as I left, my mind reeling from the encounter.

I'd learned more about him in those few minutes than my entire time spent with him; yet, just as quickly, he'd shut himself back down completely, rejecting me once again, and distancing us all over.

The evening meal was quiet that night. Civil, yet Dean seemed to have retreated back into his controlled and composed shell. He made one comment about the way my burgundy gown complimented my hair color. I smiled; happy the comment hadn't been a more derogatory one.

Later that evening, I found myself reading quietly in bed, pondering on Dean's recent civility and hoping it would stay that way. We both seemed resolved, understanding each other in a way we hadn't before, but there were still so many boundaries and danger zones between us that it was hard to completely relax around him.

He came in a little later than usual, watching me from the doorway.

I glanced up, offering him a weak smile, hoping to keep the peace between us.

The sight of my tattered green dress caught his eye and he moved towards it hesitantly. Mrs. Macleod had tried to repair it, yet the dress would never be the same, always a constant reminder of the nightmare. Though it was one of my favorites, I had no intention of ever wearing it again.

Dean fisted the material tightly where it rested over the back of a nearby chair. He turned his head away from the garment, hanging it in thought.

I watched as he stepped away from the material, beginning to undress for bed.

He changed and turned towards me in his familiar night pants, his broad chest naked in its entirety as he merely watched me. He inched towards the bed but did not climb in beside me.

I met his eyes and closed my book, setting it on the nightstand. I hugged my pillow close, waiting for him to make the next move.

He climbed into bed slowly, his eyes meeting mine.

His body language wasn't aggressive, it was cautious. He leaned over and gently brushed a few stray hairs from my face. His touch was gentle, like he was trying not to scare me.

I gazed into his eyes as they searched mine for any sign of discomfort. His face was gentle yet as always, gave away very few of his emotions.

Neither of us spoke for a long moment, unmoving in our hesitance.

Finally, he reached forward to gently cup my face, his touch soft against my skin. He brought his lips to mine in a hesitant gesture, brushing them lightly.

I closed my eyes against the sensation, unsure of what to think. I was confused, un-responding to his advances. I pulled away gently.

Blinking fast I stared at him in confusion. He had not hurt me. He had not caused me pain or discomfort. Truth be told, the experience was quite pleasurable. The gentleness of his touch was not something my body rejected, yet I didn't want this man. I would not willingly give myself to him. How could I so quickly forgive all the terrible things he had put me through because he was for the time treating me well?

I couldn't trust him. He still felt like it was his right to have me like this, like maybe if he treated me the way he thought I wanted to be treated, I would give into him.

I didn't know his motives but I did know despite how my body reacted to his touch, how my heart skipped a beat when his lips touched mine, I didn't want this with him.

"I... don't... I..."

"Shh," he whispered, placing a finger to my lips as his hand grazed my jaw, traveling lower to my neck. He brushed the material over my chest gently, all the while holding my gaze.

"Dean, please, I..."

"What did you call me?" He asked, halting in his actions.

I froze, realizing my mistake. He'd made it clear I was only ever to address him formally as Master. I'd never spoken his name out loud. I'd never addressed him as anything, avoiding the humiliation all together. The name I'd used for him in my head had finally slipped out, the name I knew him to be called, and the name Mrs. Macleod said fondly from time to time.

"What did you call me, Y/N?"

"Dean..." I hesitated.

"Say it again," he breathed, closing his eyes.

"Dean...?" I whispered.

He reached forward and captured my lips in his once more. I pushed against his chest slightly.

He smirked. "I could give you pleasure, Y/N," he whispered, his gaze searching mine as we laid side by side, our bodies just inches apart.

"You know it," he continued, "and you are likely more afraid of that fact than you are of my actually touching you," he mused. "That I might be able to make you feel things you do not understand and find frightening and are perhaps even resentful of because I can entice you to respond," he pressed his nose into my hair, just by my temple, "But I can take you to ecstasy," he promised.

"If you but allow it... come to understand that it is a natural reaction of your body to mine," he continued to coax, "Let me take you as a lover might, Y/N," he insisted, "Cease the fighting for the sake of your pride and take what I offer... that I can be gentle and desirous of your pleasure, instead of forcing your acceptance."

"You have only ever forced my acceptance," I insisted, "and that will not change," I promised.

"You do not want me?" He questioned gently.

"Not like this. I've told you before, but you don't listen," I insisted in a frustrated tone.

He reached forward cautiously, his fingers brushing the exposed skin of my neck. He lowered them, running his hands down my body, cupping my breasts, squeezing them tightly before moving lower still. He slowly traced his palm down my stomach, inching my nightgown higher and bunching it between his hands.

I realized where this was going and squirmed beneath him, trying to shift from his grasp.

"Be still; I'm not going to hurt you," he groaned in frustration, pressing me firmly to the bed.

"Trust me," he whispered, replacing his hand.

How in the world could I ever trust him?

He slipped his hand beneath my nightgown, brushing my heat gently and I gasped gently as a jolt of pleasure shot through my body.

No. I could not enjoy what he did to me. How could I ever enjoy it? I didn't want it.

I pushed his hand away roughly, but he grew frustrated and pinned it to the bed, glaring at me as he did so.

"Y/N, I am not going to hurt you," he repeated again, slowly.

He moved his hand gently along my core, pushing a finger slowly inside of me as his thumb worked its magic on the outside. An unfamiliar feeling of pleasure coursed through me and I shook my head adamantly.

"Are you still sure?" He whispered, the beginning of a smirk playing on his parted in 'o' lips as he watched me close my eyes in pleasure, trying to regain control.

"Yes," I insisted defiantly. "I don't want you. Please, stop touching me. You've never been gentle with me before. I am more than certain this is just another one of your games, and I never win when I play with you. Stop, Dean," I pleaded. "Please, leave me alone."

I could tell he heard me, but he pretended that I hadn't spoken as he continued his motions, considering my words.

He pushed my nightgown up further, exposing me further to him, before adding a second finger and pumping into me again. I gasped.

I tried to sit up and wither away from him, but he stopped his motions, grabbing me firmly with both his hands and pinning me beneath him. He gazed down at me, his strong arms bulging as he held himself above me and I glared at him in defiance.

"I like your spirit," he chuckled, placing a kiss behind my ear, before leaving one on my neck. He sucked on the skin of my collar bone briefly before fisting my gown and pulling it up and off of my body completely, leaving me naked before him.

He leaned down taking one of my full breasts in his mouth as he sucked on the soft flesh gently. Another jolt of electricity shot through me as he took the nipple between his teeth, biting it gently. His other hand played with the flesh of my other breast, kneading and pulling on it and I involuntarily arched into his touch, his warm lips encircling my hardened nub.

He abruptly stopped, glancing up at me as I opened my eyes with much effort.

"This is what I can do to you, Y/N. Let me. You can find your own pleasure with me, and while I take what I want from you, you can take the same thing from me - a release of pure nirvana. Let me show you how you can enjoy the way I touch you, if you let yourself," he whispered hoarsely, fisting both of my breasts roughly as he gazed at me. "If it is equality with me that you seek, you can find it in my bed. We can find bliss in each other."

I glanced again at his bare torso, the contracting muscles of his arms and abs as he moved, the toned pecks that would have any other women dying to run her hands across them.

I then met his gaze again, and admired the way his dark hair fell in his face while he glared at me with lustrous eyes.

"What are you staring at?" He mused.

"You're beautiful," I finally admitted.

He smirked.

"It wasn't a compliment," I corrected quickly. "It's a fact that I cannot deny, but you don't love me, and you don't want me for anything but your pleasure toy, and you don't care about me. You only show me kindness in hopes of getting something in return and you keep me here as your slave against my will, no matter how much it kills me. You're a selfish man, a sadist, who takes pleasure in the pain of others. You possess no compassion and force me to submit to things that humiliate and degrade me," I finished with an annoyed huff.

"Hmm, is that so?" He mused, his hands running along the skin of my stomach.

"I don't want you," I insisted again.

"But, your body tells me differently," he smirked, licking his moist fingers, as if he had ate honey, "It's merely waiting for that stubborn head of yours to catch up."

Suddenly and without warning, he grabbed my hips, pulling me closer to him swiftly. I gasped in shock as he made room for the two of us, before cupping my ass and pulling me closer still. He lowered himself, before bringing his mouth between my legs and capturing me between his lips, biting and sucking hard. I gasped at the warmth of his mouth against me and arched at the undeniable pleasure. I could feel myself growing moist and it repulsed me.

He reached up and swung my legs over his shoulders, pulling me in for even better access as his tongue slipped inside me. I cried out gently at the sensation and it encouraged him even further.

The pleasure built within me and I realized I was quickly losing control of myself, wanting nothing more than sweet release from this wonderful pressure he was creating.

I bucked my hips against him, fisting the blankets in frustration.

" _Beastie_ ," I breathed in frustration. "Stop," I protested, all the while my body was begging me for the opposite.

I panted as his tongue moved quicker; thrilling me in ways I didn't know possible. He sucked and pulled at my skin, biting down on my nub gently. He licked his lips in satisfaction as he glanced up at me. I stared at him behind half closed lids, on the brink of ecstasy.

"Cum for be, beautiful," he whispered against me, his breath hot on my skin. He slipped a few fingers inside me once more as his mouth reclaimed my swollen skin. He began swiftly pumping them inside of me, bending and moving in just the right way.

I cried out and found myself digging my heels into his back to pull him closer to me, needing my release more than I could imagine. I felt him smirk against me as he grabbed my ass roughly, pressing himself into me harder still.

The pressure continued to build until I felt myself clench around his fingers again, and again. I mewed quietly at the pure bliss of the moment, rocking my hips gently into his face as he pumped his fingers into me, helping me ride out my orgasm to its full potential. When I had finished, I laid there panting, as he licked the sensitive skin between my legs, tasting me in a way that clearly brought him pleasure, though I didn't quite understand why.

"I hate you," I breathed in disdain as I tried to catch my breath.

He chuckled darkly. "No, you don't, sweetheart," he answered, sitting up, taking in my dishevelled satisfied form that laid tired against the mattress.

He reached forward, cupping the bulge in his pants as he stared at me.

He slipped his trousers off, leaving himself completely naked in his glory before me as he gazed down at me. He wrapped his hand around his large member and hissed gently as his eyes continued to wander my body.

"I can take care of this myself tonight, _swan_ ," he explained, pumping his fist slowly along his shaft. "But some other time, I'm going to teach you how to do it for me," he insisted, tugging on himself a few more times quickly.

He took one last long look at my naked form before excusing himself and heading for the washroom, presumably to finish himself off.

I laid there, exhausted and confused as I pulled a pillow close, hugging it tightly. How could I have let that happen? I sighed in frustration with myself.

He entered the room again a few minutes later, climbing into bed beside me. He shifted me gently and pulled the covers over the both of us. I pulled them close, facing away from him as I gazed out the window at the half moon.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has needs, Y/N. Why you deny yourself of natural human experience is beyond me?" he spoke quietly.

"Because I never wanted those experiences with you, why can't you understand that? I wanted them willingly with a _husband_ I'll never have, a _husband_ who would be kind to me, and would hold me afterwards and whisper sweet things in my ear, words that have probably never left your mouth. I wanted them with someone I loved and who loved me back," I choked, a silent tear slipping from my closed lids. I blinked hard.

"Why can't you just find yourself a woman that wants to be with you and let me go? Let me go home. Please... I just want to go home. I just want... I just.. ." I sobbed quietly.

He looped a strong arm around me and pulled me into his muscular frame. I didn't protest.

There was a long silence. He rested his chin on my head and breathed deeply. "Why go through all that trouble when I have you?" He whispered.

"But, you don't have me, not really, and you never will. You have my body. My soul is what matters."

Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally he reached over to douse the candle by his bedside and the room went dark.

"I'd hoped to wait until you were more comfortable with me before... taking you the first time," he admitted quietly. "I wasn't expecting you to be so fiery, to challenge me in such ways. I just..." he sighed, growing quiet.

I thought of how much of that fire he'd put out since I'd come here. I'd grown resolved and I knew it. I fought, but the knowledge that it was always hopelessly pointless ran deep and more and more it was becoming easier to just stay quiet then have the same arguments again and again.

He'd changed me in that way and a part of me feared the passion I'd once possessed for life would never be quite the same again. Part of me worried that he had dimmed my soul, and the notion saddened me.

"Why were you so surprised when you first figured out... I... well that I had never... been with a man before," I asked finally, turning in his arms to face him.

Even in the dark I could almost see the blush creeping into his cheeks. The man was no easily embarrassed by any means, but some topics made him uncomfortable, and it was strangely refreshing to see this.

He gazed at me in calculation. "I guess I just expected that a young woman as beautiful as yourself would have... been with a man. I know it is customary to wait until marriage and to my knowledge you had not been married... but I just figured you'd found someone worth being with, worth giving that gift to, perhaps someone you intended to marry... and it was never something I intended to take like that. Had I known... well it doesn't matter now," he breathed.

He leaned forward and left a gentle possessive kiss on my temple, a gesture that startled me, but I did not fight it.

"I can't figure you out," I finally admitted. He gave me an amused smile. "You're so hot and cold. It's incredibly frustrating trying to figure out what goes on inside your head. I don't know how to take you; I don't understand you."

"If I have it my way," he chuckled quietly. "You never will," he replied, pulling me closer.

"Sleep, Y/N; my _swan_ ," he cooed in my ear, holding me tightly against him, and in moments, sleep over came me and I complied, knowing despite everything I was safe for the night in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like challenges, so I've decided to make Castiel a but evil... Don't hate me!!! :D

The next day found me sitting by the main fire of the castle with a book, my mind reeling. My eyes skimmed the pages but my mind took in nothing. I couldn't stop thinking about the night before, wondering endlessly how I felt about what had happened. It didn't matter how kind Dean was at times, I couldn't forgive the things he had done to me, and the realization that he felt he had done nothing wrong angered me.

I stewed over the thought, growing more and more annoyed with each passing minute.

Someone cleared their voice from behind me and I jumped.

"Y/N," I recognized Sam's distinct voice.

"I did not mean to startle you. I just wondered if you had a moment?" He asked hesitantly.

I nodded, turning to give him a warm smile.

"I wanted to introduce you to someone," he gestured towards a lovely timid woman that stood hesitantly a few feet behind him. I smiled at her.

"This is Christine," he said affectionately, holding out his hand to pull her closer. She grasped it and stepped forward. She looked to be a bit younger than him, but not by much, soft lines on her face showing her maturity. She had light sandy hair and piercing green eyes, and wore a simple dress that lay loosely on her slim figure. She looked very... ordinary, yet she was beautiful in the way she held herself, and the warmness of her smile.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," she offered stepping forward. I stood quickly, setting my book down and moving to hug her. There were no formalities when it came to friends, and if Samuel looked at her like that, she was already a friend.

"Such a pleasure to meet you as well; I have heard much about you," I offered. "You are very lucky to have such a wonderful man," I offered with a warm smile.

She nodded, glancing at him affectionately. "I am," she agreed. "Sam and the others have been raving about you and I have been so excited to meet the infamous woman of the castle. You are every bit as lovely as they made you out to be, I must admit."

I smiled sheepishly, glancing down.

"Sit," I gestured to the seats around the hearth and we made ourselves comfortable.

"So, how long have you two known each other?" I asked, eager to learn more.

"A few years," she smiled.

"Sammy has worked here for most of his life, even before this master, but I started more recently when they needed some extra staff on hand. My, uh,.. .family has never had a lot of money, so ever since I was young I've been finding work in places like this, traveling where I must. I've been here for a few years."

"Do you feel at home here?"

"It's a job. I have to admit that I love the people here. We have all become like family." I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"I am so happy I finally got the chance to meet you," I beamed.

"As am I, Y/N, and it has been a pleasure but I am sorry I must be going. I am on my kitchen break and there is much work to be done," She stood and I met her for a quick hug.

"Perhaps I will see you again. It would be nice to have another woman to talk to," I added hopefully.

"My work leaves me little time, but I will do my best. It do hope to spend more time with you," she agreed, before smiling and kissing Sam quickly. She whispered something in his ear and he nodded, watching her go.

He sat back down beside me, gazing at me curiously.

"She's lovely," I nodded in approval.

He smiled. "I know," he whispered softly, gazing into the fire.

"The love you share is wonderful, refreshing in a place like this. It is something I am admittedly envious of," I offered with a sad smile.

He sighed softly. "Do not give up so easily, Y/N," he encouraged.

"Getting here has been anything but easy."

"I know that, but I think you still have a few fights left in you."

"What is the use of fighting when you never win?"

"It is the small battles that count. You affect him as much as he affects you and I see it every day. In every moment he spends with you, he pulls himself further and further away from the darkness of his past. I can see the change in him that perhaps you can't. You are good for him, Y/N."

"But he is not good for me, I fear," I admitted. With each piece of me he took away he gained strength, draining me of my own. "I die more and more every day that I am here," I argued desperately.

He glanced at me sadly. "My only hope is that he will one day see in you what I've noticed, what everyone here noticed in you-the beauty of your soul-preferably before he has blackened it completely."

"I fear it will make no difference what he sees or does not see in me, as I will never see it in him."

"Perhaps there is more to see than meets the eye," he nodded at me with purpose before standing and exiting the room, leaving me once again alone with my thoughts.

I quickly found I was in a foul mood and for the reminder of the day, returned to my room to lie around. I brought a book with me but could barely entertain the thought of reading as I found I could not concentrate. I was bored yet again, wasting away my life inside these stone walls with no one to talk to and nothing of any consequence to do.

An hour later found me doodling and braiding then upbraiding my hair aimlessly as I stared out the window, wondering if Dean would ever trust me to go for a walk around the grounds without assuming I would run off. I sighed, longing for some fresh air, and instantly brightened when I realized how I could get some.

I walked swiftly toward my destination, taking stairs two at a time with purpose. I was cautious, trying to remember the way, but when at last I saw the double doors to the large ball room, I knew I was in the right place. I opened them, bustling through the room and pulling the large doors open that led to the expanse of the gorgeous balcony beyond.

I inhaled the cool fresh air, noting it was warmer than I had expected it to be. I glanced around the grounds, taking in the beauty of the land surrounding the castle and noticed the first signs of spring around me, budding trees and small birds scattered about the lawn.

I leaned on the railing gently, wondering how much of the surrounding area he owned, how much of it was trapped in his grasp the way I was.

"In a few months, it'll be bustling with flowers of every color. I've decided to hire a grounds crew this year to keep it up. It seems a shame to let something with such potential wither and die," I gasped, jumping lightly as I turned to see Dean hesitantly joining me on the pavilion.

"I told you this is where I come to think," he offered.

"Me too, it would seem," I turned my attention back to the scenery.

"What is it that you have come to think about?" He pressed.

I shrugged, not really understanding that myself, just knowing that it had far too much to do with my agitation for him and this place.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" He asked, gesturing towards the foot path well below us.

More than you know.

"I suppose you would have to escort me like a prison guard so I don't run off," I sniped.

"That is not how I was going to look at it," he remained patient.

"Then, I don't suppose you'd let me go by myself, give me some breathing room, some space to think?"

He hesitated. "I cannot, no," he finally decided. "But I would be more than happy to go with you, offer you some company."

"I do not want your company," I snapped.

He shuffled, moving closer. "What has gotten into you? Was it not just the other day you came whining to my office that you were lonely and missed the companionship I apparently deprived you of? Now I offer it and you want nothing of it," he snapped shortly.

I remained silent, unable to think of a logical response. I knew how unreasonable I was being, but that wasn't the point. I wished I knew what the point was.

"Why are you being so cold, Y/N," he pried impatiently.

To keep you the Hell away from me.

"Because nothing about you makes me feel particularity warm and fuzzy," I answered quickly, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm firmly.

"Lose the attitude," he warned sharply.

"Yes, _sir_. Will there be anything else?" I growled.

He unhanded me roughly, but merely watched me go.

I was being foolish and I knew it, realizing at any moment I could set him off and regret it, but I no longer cared. If the only way he knew how to win a war was with his fists then let him. His blows didn't hurt nearly as much as my heart did.

Dinner was an uneventful concoction of sidelong glares and snipes. His arrogance was getting on my nerves and the way his mood seemed to change in an instant was far more frustrating than I could even comprehend.

The second I was finished eating, I stood, throwing my napkin on the table.

"Where are you going?" He growled.

"To bed," I snapped, leaving the room with haste.

I heard his chair push back from the table and seconds later his footsteps racing after mine.

"What is your fucking problem?" He growled, catching me and falling into stride beside me.

"I'm tired," I replied shortly.

"Y/N," he growled, grabbing my arm roughly and spinning me to face him.

"I have been good to you, have I not?" I could see his internal struggle waging to stay in control.

I found I wasn't afraid of him in that moment and that anything he did to me no longer mattered. I was fed up.

"Good to me, hmm, well you've stopped trying to kill me. If that's what you consider good treatment, then thank you. You're so utterly kind," I snapped, yanking my arm free and continuing down the hall to our room. I pushed the doors open as he followed after me, slamming them behind us in frustration.

"Close your eyes," I snapped as I began to undress.

He scoffed. "Do not presume to tell me what to do."

I scowled at him, digging for a night gown and undressing myself.

He stormed over to his own wardrobe and began to undress for bed in agitation.

When I finished, I hung my gown up neatly before crawling into bed, sitting up against the headboard as I glared at Dean from across the room.

"I have not harmed you," he argued, moving towards me, a look of incomprehension in his features. I tore my eyes away from his chest to glare at him.

"And you expect that to make up for everything?" I shouted, my agitation finally boiling over. "I should just forget all the terrible things you've done to me just because you haven't done them in a while? Is that what you want?" I sat up straighter, seething at him. "I hate you. Do you not know that? I. Hate. You! You're not sorry, you've shown no remorse for what you've done and the anguish you've caused me."

My anger lifted me up from the headboard as I moved to sit up straight on my knees as I glared at him from the bed. "You _raped_ me." I seethed. "You nearly killed me. You've taken everything from me and you've caused me more pain than I can even explain to you. The worst part is that you don't even fucking care! " I hated the way my lips quivered in my rage. "Do you have any idea how angry that makes me," I snapped, fury fuelling my fire.

"You're a monster," I continued, noting the ways his eyes narrowed at my words but I couldn't stop now, I was far beyond that point. "The people in the village have it right; you're nothing but a _beast_. Maybe that side of you has just been hiding these past few weeks, but I know it's there and I know it is who you truly are. You might as well stop the mind games because I can see right through them," I spat, daring him to deceive me one more time. I couldn't handle this anymore. An apology, a hint of regret, that was all I needed to prove to me that this man was actually human somewhere deep down inside, but he wasn't sorry, he truly was not remorseful of his actions. He believed he had the right to use people and treat them how he wished and I found the thought incomprehensible.

In an instant he had crawled on the bed beside me. He reached forward, gripping my jaw tightly, pulling it inches from his face. "Is this the man you want?" He snarled, digging his fingers deeply into my jaw bone. "This who you think I truly am? Let me tell you, if it's the _beast_ in me that you want, sweetheart, it's the beast you will get," He growled, pressing his lips to mine forcefully. I opened my mouth and let out a muffled scream as I brought my hands to his shoulders and violently pushed with all my might. He wrapped his hands in my hair, tangling his fingers through it as he gripped my head tightly, preventing me from moving away as he bit down on my lip roughly. I finally managed to shove him off, if only for an instant.

"He is not what I want," I shouted, "but your actions right now, your inability to control your temper, they prove to me that he is the true man before me and that will never change," I hissed, slapping his hand away from my face.

I stood and ran for the bathroom. My feelings and nerves were chaos. I winced, resting my head in my hands as I tried to gain control of myself, to gain control of the anger, humiliation and repulsion inside me.

If I walked in there crying he would know he won again, that he succeeded in destroying me once more.

I glared at myself in the mirror briefly, hating the person staring back at me more and more each passing day. 

I took a deep breath before storming back into the room again.

Without so much as looking at him, I snatched a pillow from my side of the bed and stormed towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Like hell I'm sharing a bed with you."

"You know far better than I do that you can't sleep without me."

"Then I guess I'm just going to have to learn."

"You know why you're being like this," he mused. "You realized that you could be happy with me despite everything, and it pisses you off. You like it here and you like what I do to you."

I paused, glaring at him. "I could never be happy like this."

"I don't have the energy for you tonight," he huffed, before blowing out the bedside candle and turning over with indifference. "Like I fucking care where you sleep."

I slammed the door behind me, making my way down the dark corridors of the castle in fury. I stopped in front of the main hearth, throwing another log on the fire, before curling up on the lounge chair in front of it and watching the flames dance before me.

I tried to turn my brain off, to relax and succumb to the peace I found through sleep, but the anger and frustration that consumed me wouldn't release me from their grasps. I sighed, fisting my pillow in agitation. I hated the fact that no matter how hard I fought or what I did, it made no difference. I never won and he always got his way. My life would be the same whether I succumbed to his every whim or fought each one; the only difference would be how much pain I would endure in the process.

The next day, the castle was buzzing with activity. Everyone was in a bustle, busying themselves with one task or another, each working harder than ever before. I managed to catch up with Mrs. Macleod to inquire as to the cause of the excitement and she informed me that the castle was expecting a visitor that evening.

Dean was to have a business partner for dinner, and he had instructed the castle be cleaned and the preparations be made for his arrival.

I groaned, wondering what role I would have to play. I didn't have to wonder long as he soon caught up with me on my way to the library.

"You are to dress nicely and join us for dinner. You have to be pleasant, Y/N, I won't have your mouth ruining the evening," he warned. "Wear something enticing, perhaps the black or burgundy gown," he encouraged.

Dean hesitated as I glared at him.

"I need you on my arm tonight," he said softly. "If you could simply behave, just for the evening, I would be grateful," he cringed. I could tell the words weren't easy for him to say and took this into consideration.

I did as he asked, spending a little extra time on my appearance that night in another effort to appease him.

He escorted me to dinner that evening, a tight lipped smile plastered across my face.

As we entered the dining room, I noted the extra plate set at the table as well as the additional man hovering close by.

"This is Castiel. Y/N, Castiel, " he gestured between us and I glanced briefly at the ruggedly handsome man standing before me, at his elegant stature and strong chin. His smile was charming, but the way he held himself suggested arrogance.

He stepped forward, kissing my hand gently. "Pleasure to meet you," he nodded.

"You as well," I added politely, playing my part. I tried not to sound cold, what reason did I have for hating this man? He'd done nothing to me. I tried my best to remain civil.

"She is beautiful, Dean," he breathed, eyeing me enviously.

He nodded, shooting me a look of affection. I glanced away from their scrutiny, trying my best to hide my disgust.

"Shall we eat?" Dean encouraged, pulling out my chair for me. I supressed the urge to scoff at him and the façade he was creating.

We took our seats as the first course was brought out. I played my role, a woman's role of silent observer, the pretty scenery that was to be seen not heard. I ate, listening to their conversation but not daring to comment.

Giving Dean what he wanted at times wasn't particularly hard. I had no interest in the business they were discussing, nor did I care to chime in. I was more than content to be left alone to my meal.

"I wish to buy a few acres of your land nearby to expand my business," Castiel said through a sip of wine.

"I prefer to keep the land close to home as my own," Dean explained coolly. "Perhaps a few acres to the north."

"But a location, so close to the village would be invaluable. I cannot sustain a business in the north," Gaston insisted.

Dean was quiet for a moment, chewing over his food. "I shall have to think about it, leave with me the details of your prospect and I'll look them over," he agreed before they moved onto other matters of business and political discussions and I lost interest in once again. From the bits and pieces I'd picked up, it seemed the king was having trouble producing an heir and was looking for a mistress.

"Perhaps you could offer him this ravishing young lady," Castiel joked, eyeing me as he spoke.

"My distant cousin has enough play things to entertain him; he'll not be getting near this one. She is _mine_ ," he asserted, someone possessively. "And _mine_ alone."

I was just about to scream that I was nobody's when the staff came out to clear the table and the room fell silent.

"Y/N, we have some more matters to discuss," Dean addressed me with purpose. "Perhaps you'd like to retire for the night and I will see you after," he suggested firmly, indicating that it was an order not a request.

I nodded maintaining my polite persona, having no interest in staying any longer to be a pawn in their political chess games.

"Cas, I need to make a trip to my office to grab some paperwork I think you'll be quite interested in. Would you be so kind as to meet me in the main room by the fire? You remember where it is?"

Castiel nodded politely, standing as I did and followed me out of the room.

"Where did he find you?" Castiel inquired, falling into stride next to me as we walked slowly down the hall.

I turned, shooting him a cautious look before supressing a dark chuckle. "That's kind of a long story," I offered politely.

"Oh, I do not mean to pry...It's just I've known him for a long time. Sure, he's had women," he held my gaze with a lustrous look, "but he's never had a woman like you." He leered, inching closer. I halted, turning to him defensively. My stomach turned, thinking about how many others had played my part in the past, and what had happened to them.

Before I could get a word in, he inched closer and I took a step back, feeling my back hit the wall.

"Perhaps we could see how you compare?" He suggested, encasing me against the wall.

I shoved against his chest firmly. "Do not touch me," I warned, mustering as much courage as I could, but my voice held little malice.

He chuckled, eying me with amusement. "You are his _pleasure slave_ , are you not?" 

I froze, gazing at him in cold calculation. "I am _not_ his anything." I stated firmly.

"The way he looks at you...I believe you are lying," he brushed my cheek slowly, running his callused fingers along my jaw bone. An icy tremor of fear pricked at my spine.

"He's always let me at his whores before; you don't need to fear his wrath. On occasion he's even watched," he mused.

"One time, he joined in," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes darkening further. I stilled completely, wishing I could sink back into the wall.

"I am sure this time will be no different, now come on," he encouraged, pulling me into him with a rough hand on my back.

I shrugged away from him, finally finding my voice. "Dean will be furious if you don't unhand me. I'm not like those other girls. Let me go," I warned.

"He likes it when I take his girls for a ride. You should have seen the last one, in mere minutes I had her begging me to fuck her," he growled, his hand trailed down my arm, passing over my chest before slipping seductively lower still and reaching for the hem of my dress.

I buried my teeth into my lower lip in rage. I was tired of being everyone's play thing, of people making me feel as if my own body didn't belong to me any longer. I shoved at him furiously and he stumbled back, chuckling darkly.

"You're one of those," he leered. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face before sprinting away from him, hoping to catch him off guard.

He let out an amused chuckle, rushing after me and wrapping a strong arm around my waste, pulling me into him from behind. I opened my mouth to scream but he covered it with his hand. I let out a muffled scream as I clawed at him.

"I like it rough, too," he whispered in my ear, biting on it in the process.

I kicked at him and turned me, striking me hard against the face before throwing me against the wall face first. He twisted my left arm behind my back before pulling it upwards, threatening to snap it. I could hear him undoing his belt and my stomach dropped.

I cringed at the feeling of his face buried in my hair. "Mmm," he inhaled. He trailed his hand lower, slipping it under my skirts and snaking it higher. I squirmed beneath his weight but found myself trapped. His hands traveled further and I felt him brush my core.

"Cаstiel!" A furious voice bellowed from nearby.

I sighed in relief, seeing Dean standing behind us with balled fists. "Let her go," he spoke calmly.

Castiel chuckled before shoving back, in proving a point as he tugged my skirts higher. I whimpered in disgust, choking back a sob.

"Come on, Dean, let me at her. Remember the last time?" He whispered, gathering my hair and sniffing it as he ran his fingers through my locks.

"Not with this one," Dean insisted, stepping forward. "Unhand her," he repeated, his voice growing more menacing.

Castiel stiffened, inhaling my scent one last time before loosening his grip and stepping back. I withered away from him, slipping between his form and the wall and instantly put myself at Dean's side, slightly behind him-a place I knew I was safe.

Dean stepped further in front of me. "I think you should leave, Castiel ," he added politely, his jaw locked, lips pressed firmly in a line. His body was tense, like a lion ready to pounce. "We'll talk some other time. I'll be in town sometime next week on business, perhaps I will see you then," he encouraged shortly.

"You can't be serious," Castiel scoffed, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he readjusted his clothing. "What's gotten into you? A few months ago we both would have had a go at her, and she would have liked it."

I cowered at the growing testosterone in his voice, instinctively grabbing onto Dean's arm tightly. He shocked me by slipping his hand into mine and lacing our fingers tightly in a comforting possessive manner.

" _Leave_ ," Dean scowled again. "That will be the last time, I'm warning you," he said.

Castiel hesitated, studying the scene before him, eyebrows furrowed, before nodding stiffly and turning to walk off in the opposite direction.

"Shouldn't you make sure he leaves?" I asked quietly after a few moments.

"He's not that stupid. He's gone," Dean growled.

He stared after Castiel for a moment before turning slowly towards me, slipping his hand from mine and bringing it to my face. He stroked the skin gently where that bastard had struck me.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He whispered softly.

I nodded.

"He didn't hit me very hard...he...I just...scared," I managed, trying to gather my thoughts.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have left you with him," He whispered, his eyes narrowing in anguish.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

I bit my lip and glanced down, trying to control my reeling emotions.

He tilted my chin up gently before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. I didn't pull away.

I crossed my arms over myself protectively as his lips left my skin.

"Come here," he breathed after a moment, pulling me into his frame. I curled into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around me protectively. I reached forward, fisting his shirt tightly as my breathing began to calm, letting him sooth me in ways only he could.

"I should never have let him touch you," he whispered, running his hands through my hair gently.

"Let's get you to bed," he offered, shocking me by grabbing my hand again as we headed towards our room.

I found the anger that I had balled inside of me had dissipated, and what I needed now more than anything was his gentle comforting touch. What I needed was _him_.

 _Dean_. 

The memory of Castiel's rough touch still lingered in my memory and I shivered, clutching Dean's arm tighter, needing him.

I let him help me into bed. Although I wasn't incapacitated, he wanted to help, it made him feel better, like he was somehow making a mends, and so I let him.

"It's not your fault," I offered, trying to be kinder to him as I could see he truly was trying.

"I know what he's like. I know what he's done before. I was stupid to think he wouldn't try it with you. You're infinitely more beautiful than any other woman to ever set foot on these grounds," he answered dismissively, changing himself. His actions were quick and agitated, like he was angry with himself.

He got into bed next to me and pulled the covers over both of us.

There was a long silence. "Y/N, say something," he encouraged at last.

I shook my head. "How many, Dean?"

He stiffened, saying nothing.

"How many women before me?" I pressed.

"None that mattered," he answered at last. I glanced at him, disappointed.

"Five," he said at last. "They weren't in my company unwillingly," he offered hopefully.

"And what of me when you grow tired of me?" I asked fearfully. "What happens then?"

He smirked. "I can't see myself ever growing tired of you. Besides, you are... _different_."

I waited for him to continue but he did not. I resolved to let the topic go for the night, realizing that he would say no more.

We laid there for another few moments in unmoving solitude, my mind reeling.

"I was surprised you kicked him out," I admitted at last. "Castiel. You were so...angry."

He turned on his side and I did the same. He caught my gaze, glancing at me for a long moment. "I'm the only one that can touch you like that," he breathed passionately. "You are mine and no other man is allowed to lay a hand on you. I should have protected you better, I should have been there," his face was tormented as he stewed over the thought.

"I'm not yours," I argued fervently, not willing to let him forget that.

He smiled at me, unwilling to argue.

He reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you," he whispered. "For helping me out earlier, for playing your part. I truly do appreciate it."

I nodded. "It wasn't all that hard to be invisible," I shrugged.

He chuckled. "You were anything but invisible, swan. Both of the men in that room had a hard time keeping their eyes off of your neck line," he whispered.

I blushed, glancing away.

He ran a hand through my hair gently. "When you ran to my side," he smiled, "you have no idea what that did to me," he whispered. "It proved something to me."

"What would that be," I questioned softly.

"That you prefer my touch to his," he challenged. "That you know you are safe with me."

I didn't answer him, instead shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

He let the matter go. "Y/N," he whispered after a long silence.

"Hmm?" I could feel my eyes growing heavy as we laid there.

"Are you really alright?" He pressed softly.

I sighed. "No," I whispered. Nothing about today or about my life was alright, but I'd learned to handle distress and abuse with such indifference that it unnerved me. "No, I am not alright," I repeated, flinging myself forward to rest my head on his chest, hoping he would hold me.

To my relief he did just that, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tightly against his body. I sighed in relief at the feeling, gripping him tightly, almost desperately.

"I didn't sleep last night," I confessed at last.

He let out a deep sigh, running his arms along my back gently.

"Neither did I," he whispered.

"I don't ever want to spend another night like that again," I continued.

"Nor do I...and I take responsibility for it...I...I'm sorry," he whispered.

I pulled away from his chest, he rarely apologized and when he did, I treasured it. Sure I'd been insufferable, but we both knew it was no excuse for the way he acted. I had provoked him, but his temper allowed for him to be too easily provoked. It was something he would have to work on, and perhaps learning when to push his buttons and when not to was something I would have to work on as well.

If we were ever going to coexist peacefully, we both had a lot to think about.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting heater. You've been warned! ;)

Even with my newly granted freedom, I still found boredom within the stone walls of the castle. I did not do well caged in, and the captivity of my life was driving me insane. I longed to go for a long walk in the woods, to visit friends, or to attend a dinner party where I wasn't merely a flower on the wall.

It was late afternoon when I found Dean sitting on the upper balcony, a few pieces of parchment spread out before him, but his gaze was everywhere but on his notes.

"Bringing your work outside?" I asked, stepping timidly onto the landing.

He looked up, his face brightening slightly. "It's too beautiful to be cooped up inside," he admitted. I nodded, moving towards the railing as I followed his gaze to the ground below. There were a few people here and there, bustling about the lawn, planting flowers and tilling the land. I caught sight of Mrs. Macleod near the walkway, tending a garden with Christine and smiled.

I wondered briefly if being a true servant here might offer a happier life style for me. It would be a lot of work, but maybe I would be able to find a family amongst the servants here; maybe I'd be happier doing manual labour with Mrs. Macleod and laughing while we rested, bonding and caring for one another, something I longed for. I only entertained the fruitless thought for a moment.

"I'm happy to see you decided to follow through," I admitted, smiling softly.

"The view is beautiful," he whispered, and I turned catching his gaze, noting that it was no longer trained to the yard.

I glanced away.

"Y/N," he said at last. "What do you want to do tonight?" He asked, eyeing me with general curiosity.

I glanced back with confusion.

"What would make you happy? Anything you want to do," he offered, moving his papers to the side and giving his full attention to me.

"I would love to see my father again," I answered instinctively.

His face fell.

"Anything but...that."

"Would it be so hard to let me go? It's not like you care for me. I bet you could have me replaced by tomorrow," I reasoned in a pleading tone.

He merely shook his head, a distant look crossing his face. "You could never be replaced," he whispered passionately.

A short silence fell around us, and I felt a familiar tension building once more. For a few minutes it had been easy to forget that it existed, but in the end we always ended up back here, neither of us willing to cave.

"Then your question was loaded, as you never intended to give me what I truly wanted," I winced, biting my lips as I glanced back across the grounds.

"Spend the night with me," he whispered.

My breath hitched as I turned my head once more in his direction. Dean saw me stiffen and clarified.

"I mean...go for a walk with me," he said, nodding towards the landscape before us. "I see the way you long to be free of these walls, if at least for an hour. I can show you the beauty of the castle, inside and out. We could drink wine while I obliterate you at chess," he smirked at the small chuckle that escaped me before growing serious again.

"We don't have to be like this," he breathed, standing to join me as we leaned against the railing. He reached forward and tucked a wild piece of hair behind my ear. "I believe, with a little work, if you could let your stubborn nature fall by the wayside for only a few brief moments in time, that we could just...be," he offered.

I hesitated. The idea sounded nice. The opportunity to let myself relax was enticing. But in that moment, I was suddenly terrified. The idea of letting myself grow comfortable with this life, to accept it and live with it was almost unimaginable. Then again, why was I depriving myself of every opportunity for peace and happiness? My time here was going to be filled with good and bad, that much I knew. So why not enjoy the good when I could get it, instead of always fighting with the bad?

I glanced down at the expanse of the lawn once again, wondering what it would be like to sink my toes into the cool spring grass.

"Y/N," he coaxed. "The amount of effort you put into hating me must be exhausting. Maybe for a few hours, you could rest," he smirked, the playful arrogance I was so familiar with slipping back into his voice. "Maybe you could let your guard down, if only for the evening."

I tugged on my hair in frustration, resting my arms on the balcony as I leaned against it.

"Fine," I breathed into the open air, not turning to see the large satisfied grin that crossed his face.

_____________

It was just after dinner when Dean found me in the entrance of the castle. I was leaning against the arm of a chair, staring at the wall in calculation when he cleared his throat.

He offered his arm encouragingly and I suppressed the urge to chuckle at the boyishly hopeful look in his eyes paired with the gesture of a gentleman.

I stood, stepping into stride with him and looping my arm through his gently. He opened the door for me and we stepped out onto the grounds, the fresh spring air surrounding me and I suppressed a smile.

As Dean led me down the long drive of the castle, workers bustled around us, but none looked up from what they were doing, each knowing their place in this world.

There was one however, that dared to give me a smile. Christine glanced at us from where she now knelt along the pathway planting small pink flowers and pulling weeds from the beds. I smiled back warmly, realizing we had not run into each other since we met and I was sorry for that.

Forgetting myself, I pulled from Dean's arm and strode off the path a bit, moving to give her a warm hug. Christine hesitantly hugged me back, a smile on her face. Yet, I could feel her glancing cautiously over my shoulder at Dean the entire time.

He had started to follow me, but stopped a few feet back. It wasn't the master of the household's place to mingle with his servants, and Dean did not see these people as friends the way I did.

"These flowers are beautiful," I commented. She smiled.

"They are. How have you been?" She asked.

"Good," I assured her.

She watched me warily. "Sam has told me how he treats you," she lowered her voice, glancing at Dean carefully. "I also know the type of woman you are. The moment I met you I knew you didn't share your pain with others, that you kept it inside. Tell me, Y/N. How have you really been?" She asked gently.

I shrugged. "I have been much worse," and it was true.

She nodded, glancing at Dean once more. "I should get back to work," she said hesitantly.

"He won't say anything," I assured her, glancing back at Dean as he stuffed his hand in his pocket, watching us patiently.

"Have you been well?" I asked.

She nodded, but her movements were stiff and uncomfortable. I inwardly sighed, realizing it was a futile effort to get her to engage in comfortable conversation in Dean's presence.

"Well I'll let you get back to work," I offered with a warm smile.

"I hope to see you soon, Y/N," she said before giving me another quick hug. I turned, shooting her one last sidelong glance before catching up with Dean once again.

He didn't bother taking my arm as I fell into stride beside him. I picked at my dress as we continued down the path. I expected agitation in his voice when he spoke but there was none, just general curiosity.

"Who was that?"

"Christine. She's worked for you for a few years now," I prompted, "in the kitchen."

He shrugged. "I've never seen her around, but I don't spend much time in the kitchen," he added in a joking manner. I didn't really see the humour in it.

"She's with Sam," I clarified. "That's how I know her."

He glanced back at her, giving her a long look. "Ahh," he said softly, his interest peaked.

"You care for him," I offered. "Sam."

He chuckled darkly. "Half the time he thinks he's my father," he looked down. "He is a good man," he offered.

I nodded, glancing around us as we came to the end of the path, the rod iron gates stopping us, and I laughed at the symbolism, feeling trapped once again, despite the room I had to roam.

The sun was setting and twilight surrounded us, the dim light of dusk lighting our way. I marvelled at the purples and pinks in the sky and smiled despite myself. This place was beautiful.

"Did you want to head back?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No," I admitted dejectedly, forcing myself to turn and make my way back towards the castle.

Dean grabbed my arm gently.

"Good. Neither do I," he spoke softly. The corners of my mouth twitched towards a smile.

"I want to show you something," he said grabbing my hand. I didn't pull away as he used the other one to unfasten the locks and push the gates apart. He held one gate open for me, and I stepped through, a sense of freedom filling me for the first time since I'd dared to run away.

We walked a bit further into the forest, straying off the path until the terrain was rougher. He guided me, grasping my hand tightly and despite myself, I trusted him-trusted he knew where he was going.

He led me a bit further, and we walked in silence as the forest darkened around us. It wasn't long until I couldn't see and I was the one grasping Dean's hand, using him for guidance, afraid that if I lost him I would lose my way.

Eventually, he slowed, pulling me closer as we approached a stream, the moonlight illuminating the small river, bouncing off the rippling water and casting shadows in the forest around us. He pulled me closer still, until we got to a large boulder by the bank of the river. He sat, drawing me down on his lap and I let myself relax, allowing him to wrap his arms around my torso.

We listened to the crick, the slow current and rustling of the quiet spring winds. "It's stunning," I whispered. "Thank you for taking me here; it's exactly what I needed," I admitted.

"Its beauty is nothing compared to what I'm looking at," he whispered in my ear, smoothly moving some hair off of my shoulder. I suppressed a smile, despite myself. He was a charmer. One of the things I hated most about him was that he always knew what to say. He left me swooning when I wanted to be doing anything but.

"Are you happy? In this moment?" He asked softly. "I would settle for content," he chuckled lightly.

"Yes," I breathed. I could not lie. He had shown me one of the most enjoyable nights I'd had since knowing him.

"Good," he whispered. "That was my only intention today, my only aspiration."

"Why do you care if I'm happy?" I questioned, shifting in his hold.

There was a long silence, before he tightened his grip on my waist. "Despite everything," he whispered in my ear, "I do care for you."

I sighed. "At times I find that incredibly hard to believe," I admitted.

"I understand," was all he said.

We sat like that for a long time, neither of us saying anything.

"Dean," I whispered after a while, unwilling to destroy the peaceful solitude that surrounded us.

"Mmm?"

"Would you ever allow me to spend time out here? Maybe just lie in the grass and read for an afternoon in the sun?" I asked hopefully, desperately wishing he would say yes.

"Please," I added in a desperate whisper.

"Perhaps," he added after a moment of contemplation, but his voice held no definitive answer.

I smiled despite myself.

After a few minutes I rose, cautiously making my way towards the stream until I reached it, tentatively dipping my toes in. When my body adjusted to the frigid temperature, I moved to a deeper section and sat, dangling my feet over the edge. I sighed at the sensation and Dean sat watching me from the rock I'd previously occupied. I stayed like that for a long time, pulling my dress up to dip even more of my legs into the water, kicking them playfully as the current darted around my skin.

"It's getting late," he whispered after a few more minutes. I could sense that he knew how much I wanted to stay here forever.

I nodded and reluctantly stood, wiping my feet in the cool grass. Dean reached for my hand to steady me as I put my shoes back on. However, as we headed back to the castle grounds, he didn't let go.

_____________

"It would only be fair to warn you that I am as good at this game as I am at everything else," Dean smirked as he poured us both a glass of wine.

I watched him from the dining room table where we had set up the chess board with an amused glare.

"I never win when I play your games, Dean," I replied as he sat down across from me, setting a glass of wine in front of me.

"I don't even know why I agreed to play," I muttered, asking myself that same question. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was enjoying myself.

"The same reason you always play," he mused, taking a long sip of wine. "You enjoy it, and the prospect of competing with me enthrals you."

I rolled my eyes at him, reaching for my own glass of wine. I took a small sip, cringing at the taste as it went down.

Dean chuckled. "First time drinking wine?" He mused, gazing at me curiously over his own glass.

"First time drinking," I admitted. I'd never yet divulged in alcohol, and I had to admit, so far I wasn't sure what the fuss was all about.

He chuckled darkly.

"I don't understand how anyone could enjoy such a thing, it's foul tasting," I argued, pushing the cup away.

He laughed. "It's not the taste that people generally enjoy, it's the effect," he informed.

I knew what alcohol was supposed to do to, but I couldn't see how its effects could be worth the bitter taste.

"Keep drinking and you'll see what I mean," he encouraged.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Or don't," he shrugged. "I was merely trying to appeal to your sense of adventure, thought it was still in there somewhere..." he challenged with a smug grin.

I glared at him before taking another large swig purposefully, failing to hide my cringe as the alcohol slid down my throat.

He smirked, turning his attention to the board in front of him.

"Hope you're ready to get absolutely annihilated," he chimed, moving his first pawn.

"I think you underestimate me," I responded, making my own first move.

He smirked, watching my every movement. "I think you're right."

It wasn't long before we had finished the first game and I had surprisingly finished my first glass of wine. For a while it looked like I might actually have a chance, but of course in the end, I was forced to declare checkmate, surrendering to Dean like I knew I always would.

Much to my surprise, he didn't gloat, just smirked with arrogance, as he stood to pour us both another glass of wine. He handed mine to me, eying me smugly.

"Quiet," I pouted.

"Don't be like that," he antagonized. "You're one of the best competitors I've ever had," he offered. I huffed.

"Don't flatter me," I sniped.

"I don't flatter. If I give a compliment it is always a well-deserved one. I do not often hand out praise, Y/N. You know this," he added seriously.

I contemplated what he said.

"Where'd you learn to play so well?" He asked, setting up the board again.

"My father," I smiled.

He fell silent.

I exhaled deeply, saddening slightly despite my attempts of keeping my spirits high.

"Dean?" I asked hesitantly.

He looked up.

"Could I...I mean is there anyway..."

"Out with it."

"Could I send my father a message? Just a letter, it doesn't even have to be very long. I just can't imagine how he worries for me, and the thought of his grief saddens me more than you can imagine. Just a few lines to let him know that I am alright," I paused. "Please," I begged shamelessly.

He considered my words, eyeing me with purpose.

"Would it be a lie or the truth to tell the man you are well?" he asked at last.

I faltered. "I do not know," I admitted at last. "But all he really needs to know is that I'm still alive. That knowledge would bring the both of us so much peace," I pleaded.

He nodded stiffly at last. "I do not see the harm. You can write it tomorrow," he answered at last.

I beamed. "Thank you," I whispered wholeheartedly, entirely grateful.

"Again?" He asked at last, motioning towards the chess board.

I nodded, making the first move with every intent of beating him this time.

"Who won, when you played with your father?" He asked after a moment.

I smiled. "When I was younger, he used to let me win," I explained, a goofy smile plastered on my face. "Then he stopped, and I would lose, every time," I chuckled lightly as Dean made his move. "Though when he stopped letting me win, I started to learn," I beamed proudly. "I'll never forget the look on his face the first time I beat him."

"You're a quick learner," he offered. "Stop analyzing my moves because you're going to start stealing them and then I'm going to be in trouble too."

I smiled, quickly taking his bishop.

He raised his eyebrow at me, setting his wine down. "I did not see that one coming. Perhaps I should stop drinking, lest I lose my edge against my tough competition." He leaned forward, studying the board, eyebrows creased in concentration. He folded his hands in front of his face and I admired his thought process, wondering how exactly his brain worked, wishing I could get inside of it for only just a moment.

I laughed, taking another large gulp of my own drink, quickly realizing it was half empty and that I didn't mind the taste so much anymore. I also noted the lighter feeling that seemed to surround me.

I wondered at the way I seemed to be unable to stop smiling.

"I don't think you're in any danger of that, your partner seems to be in the same predicament," I admitted with a giggle.

He smiled, his eyes growing as glossy as mine felt.

It wasn't long before he won again and I groaned, letting out a pouty whine. "No fair. I don't like this game anymore. I hate you; you win at everything."

He chuckled. "No you don't," he whispered, pushing aside our empty cups and standing, coming around to my side of the table. He pulled my chair back and grabbed my hand, pulling me up into him.

I blinked fast, quickly realizing how dizzy I was.

"Stop kidding yourself, Y/N," he whispered, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist.

My breath hitched. I swayed in his grip but he held me tightly. It was then that I realized he was holding his liquor far better than I was.

"You know what I can do for you, and what you can do for me, and you know you can enjoy it," he breathed huskily in my ear. He dragged his soft lips across my neck, causing a shiver to run through me. "The only question left here, Y/N, is how are we going to do this?" He trailed his fingers up my side and down my arm before pushing some hair off my shoulder gently.

Rather than cringe from his touches the way I often did, I found myself leaning into them, embracing the way he was making me feel. I was intoxicated, and not just by his wine.

I reached up, gently caressing his cheek, wondering at his beauty once more. I gazed at him through unfocused eyes. "I don't want to fight you anymore, not tonight anyways. I don't think I have the energy," I whispered, lightheaded.

"Nor do I," he whispered. I wondered momentarily if we had finally found a turning point in our relationship, common peaceful ground to walk on, but my thoughts were cut short when he placed his hand under my chin, and tilted it gently upwards.

He placed a gentle kiss on my lips and I did not pull away, feeling a warm sensation fill me to my core. I wondered for a moment if I would allow his actions were I entirely in my right mind. The thought fell away with his lips as he leaned forward, whispering to me once more.

"Let me have you as a lover, Y/N," he implored once again. "Let me show you the gentleness I have offered you again and again, and tried to show you countless times. Please, do not make this another battle between us, not tonight," his words were as seductive as his touch and I found myself melting into both of them.

I sighed, resting my head against his chest as I waged an internal battle with myself. "Let me show you what it is really supposed to feel like when a man takes you," he encouraged huskily.

I blinked hard, before nodding at quickly, knowing that if I gave myself just one more moment to think about the situation, I'd change my mind.

As he led me back to his room, I felt butterfly's in my stomach, the same nervousness I'd felt the first night we'd spent together. He knew every physical inch of me and I him, yet, we knew nothing of each other.

He pulled me into his room and shut the door tightly before grabbing me firmly, placing a long urgent kiss on my lips. I could taste the alcohol on his breath mixed with my own and for the first time, I kissed him back.

  
He groaned, urged forward by the gesture. He began undoing my dress with impatient hands, helping me remove my clothes and I surprised myself by reaching forward to push his shirt off of his shoulders. I broke our kiss, pulling away and forcing myself to look up at him, his eyes, the piercing blue that always saw right through me, now didn't seem so daunting.

"If you would truly be my lover," I breathed quietly, gasping as his eyes locked deeply with mine. "Then you would know how deeply you hurt me each day," I felt him stiffen, but his expression did not change. "If you truly cared for me, you know you would not take my freedom from me."

I held his limpid gaze, neither of us daring to break it. He lifted his hand and cupped my face gently, yet with a firm possessiveness. "Despite wanting to give you all the things that you want," he whispered. "You know that I cannot and will not ever release you, Y/N," he asserted with finality, rubbing his thumb across my lip.

"I know," I whispered with a sigh, moving my hand to the back of his head. "And you know" I slurred, "that I will never forgive you that," I looked him dead in the eyes and let the words roll off my tongue. "You keep everything I love and cherish away from me," I reminded him, blinking to keep my eyes focused as my voice gained defiance, "Even when I want you now, there is still that part of me, dormant as it is at the moment, that will always be disgusted with you."

He was quiet, before shaking his head darkly, gripping my hair tightly as he forced me to hold his gaze. "I am sick and tired of you crying for your hate of me," he whispered in my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist as he pulled me into him. "I can make you cry out in so many other ways, and let me tell you, darling, not all of them are in pain."

He tilted my chin up gently, lifting me in his arms and laying me down on the bed as he pulled the rest of his clothing off, crawling into bed with me.

"Let us forget the subject for tonight and surrender to our desire. I can at least try to make your life with me one of pleasure," he coaxed, reaching down to rid me of the remainder of my clothing. "But pleasure can only be yours if you allow it. We both know this," he whispered.

He reached down, spreading his palm flat against my smooth skin, and running it from the base of my neck to my stomach before halting and catching my gaze once more.

He hovered over me and I reached up, allowing myself to explore his body for the first time, allowing myself to truly appreciate the beauty of the man before me.

I ran my hands along his torso, the very torso I had admired so many times but never succumb to or found the yearning to touch. He closed his eyes at the sensation.

"Y/N," he breathed as his eyes closed against my touch.

I moved my hand lower, hesitantly, brushing his growing arousal. He hissed lightly at the contact. I pulled away, unsure of myself.

"No," he whispered, catching my timid gaze. "You were doing it right," he encouraged, brushing away my fears.

Slowly, he reached forward, grabbing my hand and putting it in his; he helped me wrap my hand around his hardening member, guiding it slowly up and down. He closed his eyes, emitting a low growl, before removing his hand. I continued my motions, marvelling in the way I was making him feel, the effect I could have on him.

"That's it," he coaxed. He suddenly leaned down, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss, tugging on my lip gently. He wrapped his arms tightly around my back, pushing my chest to his and I gasped at the contact. I gasped in surprise when he rolled us swiftly so that I was on top of him, straddling his waist sheepishly. My cheeks burned at the feeling of this foreign position.

"Y/N," he encouraged, cupping my cheek gently. "I will be yours as you are mine tonight," he whispered, surprising and confusing me.

"Use me the way I use you," he whispered. "I'll guide you, show you what to do," he encouraged.

I bit my lip, terrified and enthralled by the notion. I felt myself sobering with each passing minute, my head clearing slightly, yet it didn't seem to matter, my desire for him was unchanging.

"I..." I whispered, suddenly unsure of everything.

Dean gripped my hand once more, putting it back where he wanted it. "Twist," he encouraged in a gruff voice. I complied and he swallowed hard.

I pulled away, shaking my head self-consciously. I crossed my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling far too exposed and averting my gaze. He grabbed my hand gently.

"Y/N," he whispered. "Stop hiding from me," he commanded, reaching forward to capture my lips with his once more. He reached forward, fisting one of my breasts tightly, causing a jolt of excitement to shoot through me. He then lowered his hand, brushing my core gently where I hovered over him and I gasped. He pulled back and I found myself dangling over him, dangerously close to his body. I placed a hand on his chest to steady myself.

He hungrily lunged forward, taking one of my dangling breasts in his mouth and sucking hard. My eyes closed briefly in bliss.

"Do you want this?" He questioned gruffly, pulling away. "Don't be ashamed, Y/N. Tell me what you want," he encouraged, placing a soft kiss to my shoulder blade. He then moved, kissing every inch of my exposed flesh before him, devouring my body and showering it with affection.

I nodded at last. "Don't stop," I surrendered, unwilling to believe the words had come from my mouth.

He smirked, his hand trailing the length of my torso as he captured his lips with mine once more. His hands found my back, slipping lower until he found what he wanted, cupping my backside tightly as he ground his hips against mine.

I sat up, suppressing the urge to pull the blankets around me, as his eyes gazed up at my body, devouring it with scrutiny.

I avoided his piercing gaze once more.

"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say it, love," he breathed. "But you're a beautiful woman, almost more beautiful than I can comprehend. There is nothing about you worth being self-conscious about," he ran his hand gently up my side. "Now stop," he breathed, grinding his hips against mine once more, his hardened member brushing my skin. I gasped.

I gazed down at him, considering taking him in my mouth, but the memory of the last time had me cringing in fear.

"You don't have to do that," he said quickly, comprehending my thoughts as shame filling his eyes.

"Tonight is about your pleasure and not just mine," I wondered at the words escaping his mouth.

"Kay," I whispered gratefully, biting my lip.

"Move up," he encouraged, guiding me closer to him so I could feel him against me.

He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance. He helped lift me, slamming me down onto him and filling me slowly. My eyes closed at the sensation as we stayed like that for a moment, him inside of me, unmoving.

"Your pace," he whispered. "Move," he breathed, coaxing me further. I lifted myself up and slowly back down onto him. His hands moved to my waist, helping me, taking the pressure off of my body as he helped me, merely guiding me and not setting the pace.

I gasped, rocking into his hips again and again, the pleasure unlike anything I ever imagined. "Faster," he breathed. "It feels better when you move faster," he encouraged.

I began moving at a more furious pace, pleasure growing within me. I was losing control of my body and a more animalistic side of me was beginning to take over, a side I did not understand and could not control. I was hungry for more of what he was offering me.

I whimpered, needing more. "Does it feel good?" He asked huskily.

"Yes," I breathed, placing my hands on his chest and lifting myself, before slamming back down even harder, crying out despite myself.

He reached down, rubbing me as I panted, trying to find the energy to keep moving in exhaustion. The feeling of him inside me, filling me completely as he pleasured me was almost too much.

I was quickly growing tired.

"Dean," I whimpered.

"Yes, love?"

"I need..."

"What do you need, beautiful?" he coaxed, lifting my chin.

"I need you," I whispered, asking for him to take over, but unable to say the words.

He smirked, enjoying the moment far more than he should.

He pulled my body down on his, our skin making contact once more, the cold sweat lining our bodies making me shiver.

"You need me to fuck you, finish you off?" He asked in a smug tone.

I merely panted, rocking my hips into his in a futile effort to get what I needed.

"Y/N," he continued. "Is that what you need?"

"Yes," I breathed at last.

"Say it," he commanded.

I huffed. "Don't make me."

"Say it beautiful, and I'll take you to ecstasy," he promised, his rough voice filled with his own sexual frustration.

"I need you to fuck me," I caved, exasperated. "Now."

"If you insist," he growled his tone arrogant. "Get on your knees," he ordered, pushing me off of him, and I complied as I panted, trying to catch my breath. I was struggling to hold myself up and not fall into the comfort of the mattress beneath me when he entered me swiftly from behind, gripping my hips tightly. I gasped.

He pounded into me forcefully from behind and I fisted the bed sheets beneath me tightly, completely lost in the pleasure he was providing.

He placed a gentle kiss on my lower back, squeezing my backside tightly as he sought his own pleasure.

He leaned over me, moving my hair off my shoulder. He moved to whisper in my ear as he took me. "Are you going to cum for me, love?"

I hung my head meekly, as he reached around, fisting and squeezing my breasts in his hand roughly. He pinched my nipples gently before slipping his hand lower. He cupped my breasts in his hand, gripping them, never ceasing his movements. One hand slid between my legs and he used his fingers to work his magic on me once more.

He kept his arm wrapped around my waste as he continued to pleasure me in every way possible and I felt myself quickly losing control.

"Look at me," he growled in my ear, and as I turned my head over my shoulder he captured my lips in a deep kiss, his tongue slipping between my teeth.

I pulled away in exhaustion and he fisted my hair, not roughly but enough to cause me to groan. He slammed into again and again, his actions rougher than they had been before and I cried out in pleasure.

The combination of his actions was too much, and it wasn't long before I felt myself lose it. I gasped, grabbing his hand and gripping it as I came around him, my orgasm hitting me in waves, one after the other.

I panted, collapsing on the mattress beneath me as I came down from my high as he fell on top of me, still inside of me. "Satisfied?" He whispered hoarsely from behind me.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Are you sure?" He challenged, pushing into me again, triggering the overly sensitive area between my legs and I gasped. "Because I am not," he said through gritted teeth. His still hardened member filled me once more. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of my neck.

"Sure you can't go one more round?" He dared, his hand finding my sweet spot once more as he pressed the sensitive skin roughly and I withered beneath his touch.

"If you keep it up, I won't have much of a choice," I admitted, through a muffled moan.

Dean chuckled darkly in my ear, and something told me that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He wrapped his arms tightly around me from behind and pulled me up, turning us so we were on our sides. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, pulling one of my legs back as he slammed into me from behind. I gasped, my head falling into the pillow as I tried to catch my breath. I buried my face in pillow beside me as I wrapped one arm around his neck to steady myself. The oversensitivity of his actions was something between pleasure and pain, but as he continued to move the latter fell away from me and I found myself gasping and pleading for him to finish me off.

He wrapped his arm around my body, gripping and pulling at my chest, tweaking my nipples with one hand as he continued his motions. His hand found my sweet spot once more and he reached around, urging me towards pleasure yet again.

"Cum for me one more time," he demanded, leaving a kiss on the back of my neck. He was still, waiting for the nod of my head, and when it finally came, he finished what he had started, moving inside of me and giving me more pleasure than I ever knew possible before finally allowing himself to succumb to his own pleasure and collapsing in exhaustion beside me on the bed.

My head was spinning as I lay there, panting for breath. He pulled from me at last, merely shifting us so he was holding me tightly and I turned in his arms, breathing deeply. I braced myself against his chest, my fingers stroking the smooth skin slowly as my eyes fluttered closed. "I have to ask one more time," he whispered, pulling me into him further as he tugged the sheets around us. "Are you happy in this moment, Y/N?"

I nodded, unable to lie through the exhaustion.

He sighed contently. "Good," he breathed.

"God," I panted, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened.

"I've fucked a lot of woman, Y/N," he chuckled, kissing his way down my back gently; I could feel his self-asserted smirk against my skin.

I inwardly rolled my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered at last, never having felt more satisfied or exhausted. I had truly never had a happier night under his control.

He chuckled darkly. "No, my beauty. Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

  
I woke the next morning feeling nauseous in more than one way. I barely had time to register the fact that Dean was still in bed beside me before I quickly made my way towards the washroom. I hesitated as a wave of nausea hit me, and lunged for the toilet.

I threw up instantly, taking a deep breath before emptying my stomach once more. I groaned, gripping at the wall as I leaned against it.

I heard Dean sluggishly roll out of bed and pace after me. Moments later, I felt his warm hands on my back as he pulled my hair out of my face and off my shoulder.

"Someone drank a little too much wine last night?" He mused, a sarcastic edge to his tone.

I merely groaned, shoving at him as my stomach lurched again and I dove for the toilet.

"It's your fault," I grumbled as he handed me a slightly wet towel to wipe my mouth.

"Feel better?" he asked, softly. I narrowed my eyes at him, realizing I was still naked and so was he. I curled in on myself, the night before rushing back to me in an unnerving furry.

"We... we were together," I said, admitting it out loud for the first time.

He chuckled. "Wasn't the first time and it won't be the last, sweetheart," he pulled me up as I felt my stomach settling.

I suddenly felt defeated, resolved even. I'd given up my pride and my dignity the night before and that realization was a hard one to swallow.

I'd submitted to him in hopes of avoiding another battle, another night of pain and suffering. And what was more was I knew I had enjoyed myself to some extent, even if my actions were affected by the wine I consumed, they were still mine nonetheless.

I felt weak, like my choices had been selfish and cowardly.

I stepped away from him, crawling back into bed and pulling the sheets up and over my body as he moved to his wardrobe, beginning to dress for the day.

I said nothing more of the subject because there was nothing else to say. He said nothing because he knew that he had won a small victory, and his self-satisfaction was far louder than his words could ever be.

"What of the letter to my father?" I added quickly, remembering as he was almost dressed.

He faltered, pulling his jacket on, slowly. "Keep it short and sweet," he said at last, gesturing to the quill and parchment on a nearby table. "When you are finished, bring it to Sam, he will see that it is sent," he added abruptly.

I nodded, relieved that he had decided to keep his word.

"Thank you," I whispered, needing him to know how truly grateful I was, how much peace the idea brought me.

He caught my gaze before nodding briskly and turning to leave, presumably to attend to business, but truthfully I never knew where he was going.

I sighed, pulling a sheet around me as I strode to the desk in the far corner. I took a seat, glancing out the window which it faced and spread out a peace of blank parchment. I dipped the quill in ink and hesitated. I knew Dean would read the letter before it was sent, to insure I said nothing he did not wish me to share.

I wanted my father to rest peacefully, believing I was safe and well, but I did not want to lie to him. Reluctantly I touched the ink to the paper.

Father,

I write to you in an effort to sooth your worry and end your grief. Your daughter is alive and well. I worry for you often but the knowledge that you are home and healthy beings me comfort.  
Though this place is a prison, it is now my life, and I have succumbed to the fact and at times even found peace in it. There have even been moments of happiness here, and I have made friends that undoubtedly lessen the sting of being away from you and the familiarity of the village I used to call home.

Perhaps true happiness is not something I will ever be granted in this life, but I find I could be worse off. I am aware that there are those in a worse place than I, and that life is a short gift we cannot waste and must embrace under any circumstances.

Perhaps this knowledge will bring you peace, and you will be able to move on without me-to leave me behind. I pray you find strength in my words as I have found in you my entire life.

I am fine.

I will be fine.

I miss you more than words on a piece of parchment could ever describe, and I love you with my whole heart.

You have done everything for me, given me everything, and now it is time to let me go. It is time I take care of myself, and I believe I'm stronger now than I ever thought possible.

These may be the last words we ever exchange, and the thought shatters my heart beyond repair, but at least I was able to tell you one last time how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Thank you for everything you've done for me and God bless you.

Your loving daughter,

Y/N

When I was finished, I realized that I'd written more than anticipated and hoped Dean would have the decency to send it anyways. I found that my tears clouded my vision as I skimmed the letter one last time. I blinked hard fighting them away, and a single tear fell onto the paper, smearing the ink at the end of the letter. I cursed myself, adding a small heart beside my signature before wiping the droplet away and folding the paper. I sealed it and placed a gentle kiss on the outside, perhaps the last insignificant sign of affection I would ever show the man who raised me, the man who meant more to me than I could ever possibly describe.

Perhaps I had bent the truth, perhaps I had given him the illusion of a more hopeful life than the one I was leading, but perhaps it was necessary. I wanted him to find closure and peace, and I needed him to believe I could find it too.

_______

The day was an uneventful and quiet one. I said very little to him, lost in my own thoughts and if Dean noticed, he did not bother to comment or pester about it. He also made no move to touch me when we crawled into bed that night after a monotonous and long day.

"Can I ask you something?" I said at last, rolling to rest my head on my hands and gaze at him. He glanced sidelong at me before nodding.

"Did you send my letter?" I whispered hopefully.

He caught my gaze, his face softened substantially as he held it. "I did," he confirmed, studying me for a long moment but saying nothing else on the subject.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I breathed, closing my eyes in relief.

He was quiet for a long moment.

"What's going to become of me?" I asked after a few moments.

"What are you talking about?" A hint of annoyance laced his tone.

"Are you going to keep me here forever?" I breathed.

"Y/N, not this again," he scoffed, but something about his tone told me he wasn't entirely sure.

I huffed quietly, dropping the subject reluctantly.

There was a long silence as he gazed at the far wall in contemplation.

  
"Why are you so fond of Sam and Mrs. Macleod?" I pressed, trying my luck on a new question.

He stiffened. "What makes you think that?" He asked at last.

I supressed a smile. "You love them," I insisted. "You care about them in a way you don't care about the others, why?"

"They've been with me the longest," he shrugged quickly.

I shook my head. "No, it's more than that."

I watched his brows narrow in contemplation.

He swallowed hard, glancing at me again. "You know that safe, warm feeling you used to get around your mother? The feeling like everything was going to be okay?" He asked, glancing at me slowly.

I nodded.

"That's the feeling I get around Mrs. Macleod," he spoke softly. "That and she keeps my ego in check," he laughed.

I smiled.

"I feel much the same way about Sam. After I lost my parents and my brother, they were the closest thing I had to family, and they took on the role in a way I'd never expected. Sam and I butt heads, we disagree on a lot, but I still respect him," he admitted.

I nodded. "I get the same feelings around them sometimes," I confessed. He smiled.

"They care for you," he offered.

"I know, and I do care for them," I admitted.

There was a long silence and I found myself wanting to learn more about him, wanting to unravel the mystery that was this man, needing to understand him.

"What was your mother like?" I asked cautiously. He stiffened again.

He tugged gently on his hair before resting an arm behind his head in thought. "Warm, kind, gentle," he answered distantly.

"And your father?" I asked, playing with the sheets beneath me.

"He was a good man, but he had a temper," he admitted. "He wasn't always the nicest man when provoked. I got a few good beatings out of him, and so did my mother," he whispered. "He never touched my brother, though, he was his favourite son."

I studied him as he spoke, his hardened jaw, the way it softened when he spoke about his family.   
"I hated him sometimes, but I understood. A man has to keep his house in order," he asserted.

I said nothing, finally understanding a lot of things for the first time.

He caught my gaze. "I know there's a lot of him in me," he confessed. "I'm not proud of that".

I remained silent, watching the torment in his expression.

"I'm not proud of a lot of things," he breathed.

"We all have regrets," I said.

He glanced at me. "I can't imagine you regretting anything," he whispered.

I stared at him for a long moment. "I regret last night."

His face remained stoic. "Do you really?"

"Yes," I insisted.

"I didn't take advantage of you, Y/N. You knew what you were doing."

I nodded. "I did. And that is why I regret it the most," I confessed.

"You regret that you gave into your desire for me, or that you realized that desire exists?"

I closed my eyes tightly. "Both," I breathed before turning away from him; unable to admit the fact to myself, let alone the man I was trying my hardest to keep my true feelings hidden from.

  
How could I ever let myself feel anything for someone that hurt me so badly?

"I admire your strength, Y/N," he breathed from behind me. "But will never understand why you're so ashamed of everything your body feels and of everything that is beyond your control," he pressed.

"I'm tired," I insisted. I didn't want to talk about this at the moment, wasn't ready to talk about it, and didn't understand it well enough to think it through if I wanted to. Dean picked up on this quickly.

"Good night, swan," he whispered, blowing out the candle at his bedside softly.

The room went silent and for a moment I thought he had fallen asleep, but my anxiety settled when I felt him shift behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and I sighed internally in comfort. My thoughts wondered, but only briefly, as I soon found myself drifting into a deep and peaceful sleep.

______________

I woke again with the urge to throw up and groaned in annoyance as I sprinted for the toilet, throwing myself at its mercy.

I emptied the contents of my stomach in the toilet as I tried to figure out why I had awoken sick once more. I hadn't had since indulged in Dean's wine and I hadn't eaten anything that didn't agree with me.

I didn't hear Dean follow me this time and I cleaned myself up before stumbling back to the bedroom bewildered. He was already gone for the day and I took a seat on the bed, letting the queasiness subside and taking a few deep breaths.

I decided to dress and go speak to Mrs. Macleod, perhaps she knew a remedy for my seemingly spontaneous stomach flu.

I dressed gingerly and wondered the castle, searching for Mrs. Macleod. I decided to start with the gardens where I most often saw her during the day, ploughing or planting in the newly rejuvenated earth.

Despite the fact that I'd never explicitly been given permission to wonder the grounds, I couldn't predict Dean caring much one way or the other anymore.

My instincts were right, as I spotted her working a small patch of dirt in the far corner of the grounds and smiled, making my way towards her across the sun lit lawn.

She smiled warmly as she saw me approach and reached out for a hug. I embraced her before pulling away and offering her a small smile as well.

"Good to see you, Y/N," she smiled. "How are you?" She asked, setting her plough to the side.

"I am well," I offered. "The garden is looking great," I commented.

She nodded. "The whole castle is bustling and shinning again. Since you've come it has truly come back to life. Dean cares for this place again, like it is his home, like he should," she complimented. "You do him so much good," she breathed happily.

I smiled reluctantly, glancing down as I played with the material of my gown.

"Mrs. Macleod, can I ask you something?" I spoke softly.

"Anything, dearie."

I faltered. "I haven't been well," I admitted at last. "I didn't wish to bother Dean, and I figured you would probably know what to do better than he would anyways," I explained.

"How do you mean, dear?"

"I am not sure...I've been sick a lot lately. I've found myself over the toilet the last few days," I admitted.

Her eye brows creased in contemplation. "After dinner? Maybe it was something you ate?" She offered.

"No," I shook my head. "And the strange thing is, I only feel ill when I wake, and then it subsides. It is unlike any stomach flu I've ever known," I shrugged.

She stiffened, giving me a once over, concern crossing her face. "Only in the morning?" She repeated cautiously.

I nodded. She said nothing and my heart beat sped up nervously.

"What, do I have the plague or something?" I chuckled, actually growing worried that something was wrong.

She offered me a weak smile. "No child, you do not have the plague," she assured me, gesturing to a turned over tree trunk a few feet away at the forests edge. "Sit, Y/N," she encouraged.

I shot her a curious look but obliged, plopping down as I gazed at her expectantly. "Mrs. Macleod, what is it?"

She took a deep breath before sitting next to me and grabbing my hand softly.

"Child, when was the last time you bled?" She asked, gently.

I blinked at her, my cheeks flushing. "You mean..."

She nodded. "Did it come last month?" She encouraged.

I fumbled, trying to remember. "I do not know. It is so easy to lose track of the days here, I don't remember...I-"

She squeezed my hand. "Hush child, calm down."

I took a shaky breath, catching her eyes in a panic.

I stared at her for a long moment and her eyes bore into mine. "Mrs. Macleod, you're not suggesting..."

She winced. "Y/N," she whispered softly, nodding. "I believe you are with child," she confirmed solemnly.

My heart stopped at her words.

I froze.

I shook my head furiously. "No. I'm too young...I do not want a child. I do not want his child. I can't be-I can't-I-no," I fumbled, balling my hands into angry, nervous fists.

Mrs. Macleod reached up to gently cup my face, stroking it softly as she spoke in a nurturing tone. "Calm yourself, Y/N," she soothed.

"Dean is going to be furious. He won't want this child any more than I do. What are we going to do with a baby? I don't know how to take care of one...I can't have him around it; God knows how he could hurt it if he loses his temper. What if it's a monster like him?" I panicked. "Mrs. Macleod, I can't, isn't there something we can do?" I pleaded in a moment of sheer desperate terror.

Her eyebrows narrowed. "Y/N, do not suggest such things. Dean would one day need an heir to this estate regardless. I see no reason why cannot be the woman to give it to him. You would be a phenomenal mother," she encouraged, trying to calm myself. "This does not have to be the end of the world."

I shook my head frantically, my eyes watering, threatening to burst. "I don't want to give him anything. I don't want to be a mother. I don't want a child born of rape and anger. I don't want what he has done to me. I don't want any of it, please," I begged, not entirely sure what I was expecting her to do. "I don't want this. I never wanted this. I'm trapped and tied to him forever now. We share a child," I sobbed, finally losing control.

"Shh," she cooed, grabbing me and pulling my head into her chest gently. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly as I wept. "It will be alright, child."

"No it won't," I breathed. "This cannot be. This is not alright," I choked.

"Most women your age would be looking to settle down and start a family," she offered. "It is not uncommon," she encouraged.

I pulled away to look her in the eye. "I am not most women and I do not want a family this way, not with him, not because of what he did to me. I cannot fathom bringing a child into this world that was not born of love. I can't," I sobbed.

  
"I have to go," I said suddenly.

"Wait, Y/N!" She shouted as I stood abruptly. "You have to tell Dean," she encouraged. "And please, calm yourself, everything will work out," she encouraged softly.

I shook my head, taking off at a furious pace towards the castle. His child could not be inside of me. There was no way he had done this to me. It couldn't be.

I took off, suddenly feeling sick as I approached the front doors. I knelt in the grass, bracing myself against the building as I threw up quickly and without warning.

I shuddered, standing and bolting through the front door and through the castle, needing to be alone. I needed to find a place to think and I automatically headed for the library, furiously climbing stairs and navigating the endless hallways of the castle.

I slammed the large double doors behind me when I reached my destination and collapsed on the floor, my back to them as I let out a loud sob.

I put my head in my hands as I leaned back against the door, letting myself succumb to my emotions.

Tears fell freely down my cheeks and I realized that the emotion which overwhelmed me the most was pure terror.

What would he do when he found out?

I could barely fathom his fury. It was not like I had meant for this to happen. I had never even wanted him. Each time he bedded me I had resisted, though perhaps this was my punishment for the way I had relented the night before.

A million worries ran through my head, the countless women in the village who had died from the trials of child birth, the pain they spoke of, the endless nights of children wailing.

Who was I to be anyone's mother? I was barely a woman myself and still felt like a child in many ways.

But most of all I did not want a part of him inside of me. A part of him and a part of me forever intertwined, forever a memory of what he had done to me.

I covered my mouth with my hand in an effort to stifle another sob, pulling my knees close to my chest.

I stayed like that for a long time, thinking, crying, and staring into nothing as I watched the room darken. I did not know how long I sat there, my brain playing scenarios over and over in my head, but the sun was long gone when I heard footsteps outside the door.

I listened quietly, drying the last of my tears on my sleeve as I realized there were two sets of footsteps, each walking with purpose.

I stood slowly, bracing myself against the door as I pressed my ear to it.

"Where the Hell is she," the first voice growled. I recognized it instantly. "She's an hour late for dinner. Honestly, what is that woman doing?"

"Perhaps she simply forgot, Sir," the second offered gently. I recognized it as Sam's.

"Women," Dean grumbled.

Sam said nothing.

"Speaking of which, when were you going to tell me about that lovely thing following you around," he mused with an agitated edge.

I could practically feel Sam stiffen, choosing his words carefully. "I wasn't hiding it from you, if that's what you're insinuating," he asserted quickly.

I heard Dean grumble under his breath. "She's a few years younger than you is she not?" he asked, clearly curious.

Sam remained calm, and I shifted slightly so I could hear them better, trying to remain hid. The last thing I wanted was for Dean to find me right now.

"Not younger than Y/N," Sam mused, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"Shut your mouth," Dean snipped, and I heard them step closer still, coming to a halt outside the double doors. His agitation was high, his temper unstable.

"I'm merely suggesting, perhaps if you treated Y/N a bit better she wouldn't run from you as she does. Learning to control that temper of yours could be the best skill you ever master."

"Remember your place," Dean snapped. "I have many skills, all of them infinitely more useful," he grumbled, his tone almost whiny. He hated being chastised but what he hated even more was that Sam always had a point.

"If you don't start treating her well, you're never going to win her," Sam pressed once more. "She will always despise and fear you," he warned.

"Son of a bitch, you're going to get a black eye, again, if you don't stop," Dean warned sharply.

"This temper is exactly what I'm talking about. It gets you nowhere to strike me and it gets you nowhere when you strike her," Sam persisted, his voice darkening. "Grow up, Dean, and be a man."

"Be a man! What do you know about being a man?" I could hear the fury in his voice rising.

"That real men don't fight with their first, especially not with women. Especially not with someone who has no chance of fighting back. A little self-control is necessary," Sam asserted calmly.

"You know nothing, so shut it!" Dean roared, and I could tell he was about to lose his temper completely.

I knew he was going to hit Sam at any moment if he kept it up and I couldn't allow it to happen, especially not because he was arguing on my behalf. I wouldn't let him get hurt for me again.

I pulled the door open swiftly.

"Stop it, Dean," I called. "Don't hurt him."

Dean swung around, staring at me in shock. "Where have you been all night," his eyes narrowed.

"Library," I answered calmly.

"With your fucking books, again? You missed dinner. I asked you for few things, and you cannot follow them! I feel like you defy me for the sake of doing it," his tone was exasperated, he wavered on the edge of losing control.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? Shit, Y/N, you infuriate me," he growled. "Never listen to a god damn thing I say! Where were you?" He insisted.

I froze, trying to think of an excuse, anything but the truth. He couldn't know, not yet.

"Y/N, where the fuck were you all day," he repeated.

"Don't hurt her," Sam warned, shooting me a cautious look.

"Shut up, Sam!"

"Dean," I pleaded softly, trying to calm him.

"Where?" He repeated, grabbing me hard by the wrist and pulling me closer to him.

"Careful," I pleaded, suddenly worried for the life inside of me. An unexpected protective urge overcame me and I yanked my arm free.  
A dark looked crossed his face and I cowered from him.

"Dean," Sam warned sharply. "Don't touch her."

"I'm am really fucking sick of everyone telling me what to do in my own home!" He hollered in anger.

"Don't touch me, please," I pleaded. "I'm sorry."

"Give me a damn good reason not to. Why did you miss dinner again?"

His nostrils practically flared as he glared at me. Time seemed to stop.

I suddenly realized I had no other choice but to tell the truth. If I did not, he would hurt me, and he would hurt the baby. As much as I despised it, I couldn't stomach the thought.

I took a long steady breath. "I'm pregnant," I yelled. "I'm carrying your godforsaken child!"

He froze.

He stepped away, shock crossing his face. His face softened, his gaze never faltering as it held mine.

"Y/N," he breathed, moving closer to me once more.

"Don't touch me," I insisted, taking a large step back, my eyes welling again. I thought I'd run out of tears to cry, but I was wrong.

"Please, just don't touch me," I begged, stepping further away and backing into Sam. I turned, catching his astonished gaze.

The first tear fell as I saw the pity behind his eyes as he stared at me.

"Are you sure?" Dean finally breathed.

"Yes," I managed through a sob. "Yes, I'm sure," I insisted. "You had to know it was bound to happen, that you were bound to do this to me." I whimpered.

"I need to be alone," I choked, moving away from the both of them and attempting to sprint down the hallway.

Dean caught my arm gently. "Where are you going," he asked softly.

"Leave me alone please. Just, leave me alone," I begged, pulling my arm free with little effort as I all but ran down the hallway and out of sight, leaving the echo of the silent hallway and my aching heart in my wake. Leaving the father of my child speechless as he watched me go, watched me run from him the way I always would.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's Christine :)

I didn't know how long I'd been there, curled into the wall of an unfamiliar guest room. I stared into the darkness aimlessly, trying to make out the details of my surroundings. I'd thrown myself through a doorway down a dark hallway when I'd fled far enough from him that I felt I could breathe again. The location didn't so much matter as the space I'd gained from Dean.

It was dark, but I could make out the frame of small bed to my left and a chesterfield on the far wall. As long as it was nowhere I'd been before, nowhere had he expected me to go, I was content.

Curled on the floor, I remembered the familiar position of the first night I'd spent alone with him. I remembered the sincerity in his voice when he whispered he wouldn't hurt me that night.

What a lie that had been. I marvelled at his ability to deceive me.

I noticed that my tears had dried, but not much else, as sat in solitude, revelling in the peace of a moment alone. I embraced the silence around me as I glanced around the moonlit room.

It was dark, but my eyes had already adjusted as I gazed around at the dimly lit décor. I took a deep breath and sighed, my eyes growing weary from the stress of the day.

My hand moved swiftly to my stomach. I tried to comprehend the idea that there was a person inside of me, a child. I hated the thought of it. I hated the thought of him inside of me, that I would carry a part of him for months. I hated myself for it. I considered the idea of our child looking just like him and cringed.

I clawed at my stomach desperately through a wince, breathing deeply in an effort to calm myself.

It seemed just when I was starting to truly calm down, to find an inch of clarity in which I could begin to sort out my current situation, the door clicked quietly. Knowing it was him, every morsel of peace I had summoned shattered around me.

My heart quickened at the sound of the door shutting and soft footprints moving swiftly across the room. My breath hitched and I held it, trying to remain as silent as possible.

I shuffled closer to the wall as the footsteps approached, curling in on it.

I blinked hard, willing him to go away. The last thing I wanted was his presence. The last thing I needed was his scrutiny.

I closed my eyes tightly for a heartbeat, only to open them and see his dark silhouette towering over me. I curled back in fright at his looming figure, unsure of his current temper, whether his anger for me still flared.

As he stepped closer I could see him more clearly, see the way he stared at me, his scrutiny. It was then that I noted the tentative way he held himself and the softened looked that had crossed his features since our last encounter.

Dean stepped closer still and I stiffened, cringing way from him without fully even realizing I was doing it. He hesitated.

I wrapped my arms around myself tighter still, wincing as I pressed myself back against the wall. I wanted nothing more than to sink into it, than to get as far from him as possible.

He moved forward slowly once more, crouching in front of me and I jumped back.

His eyebrows creased at the sight. "Y/N," he spoke slowly. "I've been looking everywhere," he sighed.

Only when he reached forward to grasp one of my hands in his did I realize I was shaking.

I pulled from his grasp, shaking my head fiercely. "Don't touch me."

He frowned. "I won't hurt you," he whispered.

"No," I shook my head, my voice weak. 

"Y/N, please," he pleaded desperately.

"Leave me alone," I begged, desperation creeping into my voice. I caught his gaze and held it firmly.

"Leave me," I begged silently

His expression was torn as he gazed at me, kneeling in front of my terrified form.

"How can I leave you like this," he whispered, his eyes sweeping my silhouette.

I blinked hard, feeling the familiar burn behind my eyes and hating myself for it once more. "Wouldn't be the first time," I spat with as much fight as I could muster, though the attempt was admittedly pathetic.

"Y/N," he choked with the most desperation I'd heard yet. His voice cracked on my name. He reached forward desperately gripping my hand once more, his face a mask of pain.

We stared at each other for a long moment and I felt my eyes water still.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with such desperation that I found it hard to ignore the truth and distress in his words. They may have been true, but I found it hard to believe in them.

I choked out a quiet sob, my hand grazing my stomach subconsciously.

He knelt further before collapsing on the ground beside me, leaning against the wall in what appeared to be agony as he watched me. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his own eyes glistening, but we both knew he'd die before he let them well further.

I stared at him with contempt for a long moment.

"You did this to me," I choked, clutching the fabric above my stomach with anger pointedly.

Fresh tears escaped my lids but I paid them no mind. He'd destroyed me enough times that tears no longer mattered. They came so often now it was something I hardly noticed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in grief, his head rolling back against the wall as he winced. His features were distraught.

"Is this what you wanted?" The words were meant for a scream but escaped in merely a murmur, my energy fading fast.

He hung his head, resting it in his hand for a long moment. I watched the way his legs splayed out in front of him casually, one knee bent as he leaned against the wall in utter defeat.

"No," he choked at last. "No, Y/N. This is not what I wanted," he admitted

"Then why?" I breathed desperately.

He raised his head to my pained expression. "I didn't plan this, Y/N. I didn't...a child was not something I wanted-for you, for me, at all...not this soon...not this way...not..." his words were lost as his thoughts consumed him once more.

"But you knew it was a possibility. You always knew, every time you knew," I argued fervently. "And it didn't matter. It didn't matter to you because you weren't the one who was going to have to have the blasted child," I sobbed, fisting my hair tightly. "You were too worried about your own selfish pleasure to think about any of this," I yelled, hugging myself deeply in an effort to soothe the pain within me.

His expression was so agonizing that I nearly had to look away. He looked like he might move to touch me again, but the hatred in my eyes was enough to convince him otherwise.

I rested my forehead on my knees, clutching them firmly. "I suppose I always knew it could happen too, I just didn't want to believe it," I shook my head. "And I guess now that I've become an inconvenience and a nuisance you'll do away with me like you did the others. Send me and my bastard child away, kill us...however it is you deal with your problems," I bunched my dress in my hands, clawing at it as I brushed it against my face in an attempt to clear my blurred vision.

  
He released what could only be described as an animalistic groan of pain at my words. He moved closer still.

"Y/N," he whispered passionately. "No."

I raised my head, willing myself to look at him once more.

"No," he asserted again, shaking his head with purpose.

"No, no, no," he soothed, advancing on me once more.

I stiffened against at his touch again but this time he would not relent when I pulled away. He grabbed me tightly, pulling me into his chest from behind as I fell against him. I seemed to fit between his legs like a puzzle piece as he wrapped both of his arms around my torso, whispering the words in my ear over and over again.

I strained against him, but the more I struggled, the tighter he held me and the more I realized that what he was offering was all I actually needed. Once again he knew what I needed before I did and the thought baffled me.

I curled into him, his arms encasing me as we lay on the floor, leaning against the wall, both of us consumed with desperation.

I quieted and I felt him moving the hair off of my shoulder and out of the way so he could kiss the back of my neck gently.

"Y/N," he whispered softly, his breath hot on my skin. "I told you once I would never let you go," he breathed. "I meant it."

I shivered at the sensation.

His fingers trailed the length of my arm, slipping lower as they came to rest on my torso. He stretched his palm out flat across the pane of my stomach and I relaxed at his touch.

"This child," he breathed "is as much mine as it is yours. As much my responsibility and entirely my fault," he asserted slowly.

I blinked hard at his words, at his resolve and the realization that he wasn't running from this, that he was accepting it.

He reached up and turned my jaw gently to the side to catch my gaze, his fingers brushing it softly. "I know you're terrified," he said slowly. "And I know you're angry. You have every right to be," he allowed, his fingers moving to brush the glistening tears from my cheek.

I sobbed lightly once more.

"But do you want to know a secret?" He offered.

I nodded, unable to speak.

"I'm terrified too," he admitted.

I sniffled lightly, taking in the sincerity in his features, the scent of his skin.

He sighed, moving to wrap his arms tightly around me and rest his chin on my head as I fell into his embrace.

"You're not scared of anything," I countered.

He chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating with the effort.

"Coming from the woman who terrifies me above all else," he mused.

I shook my head against his chest. I couldn't find words.

There was a short silence.

"I can't do this. I don't know what I'm doing," I worried aloud, my tears drying and my heart slowing.

"Yes you can-we can," he assured me, kissing the top of my head.

"I don't want it," I admitted. "I hate it," I pleaded shamefully, realizing how much of a monster I sounded like.

"No you don't."

I shook my head. "I do."

"You don't hate this child," he whispered. "It is me you despise, the man who forced it inside of you," he asserted, brushing my stomach possessively.

  
And to that I had no argument, no rebuttal, nothing else to say. Nor did I pull away from him as he held me in the darkness. Nor did I want to.

_____________

I spent the next few days nauseous and avoiding everyone. Seclusion had always been my escape and I couldn't change that.

Dean seemed as resolved as I did.

I spoke very little to anyone and found solitude in the gardens and the library. I found myself wondering the castle often, but could not escape a sense of enclosure that seemed to surround me. I suddenly felt entirely trapped, more so than I ever had and a sadness was overcoming me.

A heaviness surrounded me, weighing me down in everything I did, a sort of desperation and inescapable fate became all I knew.

I ran a bath one night, trying to find some peace, to soothe my worries the best I knew how.

A servant I did not recognize helped me to fill the large wash tub and left swiftly without a word, leaving me alone once more.

I lit a candle beside the tub for light and incense and undressed slowly, dipping a toe in the bath water hesitantly. The warmth was welcoming and I slipped in with a sigh, my eyes fluttering at the sensation of the soothing water surrounding me.

I breathed deeply, clearing my head and trying my best to avoid thinking at all costs. Thinking was a careless pursuit these days that only ever left me in a panic.

I dunked my head under the water. The water relaxed and cleansed me, leaving me feeling lighter, fresher somehow-cleaner.

I reached for a small bar of soap, running it along my skin, rinsing away any reminisce of him, until there was only me, until I was free of him completely.

I ran my hands through my hair, rinsing it, untangling it pulling it off of my face before resting my head back against the tub and allowing myself to rest for a moment.

Every muscle in my body relaxed as I breathed in the fresh scent of soap and solitude.

I did not know how long I'd lain there, letting my body prune, letting myself soak, and letting my worries fall away before I was jostled awake.

I glanced at the candle to see that it had burnt down considerably and glanced around to see the source of the thud that had startled me conscious.

I squealed when I saw Dean in the doorway of the bathroom, a curious expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded in an annoyed tone, covering myself despite the soapy water.

He chuckled, stepping closer still. "Still so modest," he laughed, eyeing me.

"Go away," I huffed.

"I'd hoped to have a bath," he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're just going to have to wait until I'm finished," I mused, turning away from him dismissively.

I could feel his smirk on the back of my neck and my agitation grew.

I heard shuffling behind me but nothing else as I waited for him to leave.

At last I turned to glare at him and gasped when I saw him undressing, nearly nude already.

"What do you think you're doing?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Taking a bath," he shrugged, pulling off the last of his clothing and moving to climb in the tub.

I shuffled exasperated. "You can't be serious!" I exclaimed, moving to stand and climb out. "One moment alone and you ruin it."

  
He laughed, a booming full laugh and slipped in behind me, before tugging me back down into the tub and against his chest.

I growled at him but he merely wrapped his arms around my torso from behind, brushing my wet hair off my shoulder to whisper in my ear.

"I seem to recall you spending a lot of moments alone lately, my swan," Dean mused quietly.

I shrugged, still highly annoyed with him for ruining my bath, but surrendered my battle to leave the tub. Battles with him were not something I ever won.

"I don't like to see you so melancholy," he asserted slowly.

I leaned my head back against his chest, but said nothing.

He ran his fingertips up my arm gently, kissing my shoulder blade softly.

"When have you ever seen me joyful?" I huffed, reaching for a rag and turning it over in my hands as a distraction.

"I see brief moments of contentment in your eyes, for now that is enough. But they have been absent lately," he answered, reaching for the rag I was toying with and setting it aside, grabbing my hand in his.

He ran his hands soothingly across my skin but not in an inappropriate manner, never crossing that line. It was strange to be naked and pressed against him in this way but not have the experience seem sexual or threatening. It was just nice.

Dean bunched the rag in his hand and began running it across my back, my eyes closing at the pleasurable sensation of his soft touch.

"Did you have any names in mind?" He asked lightly, his ministrations on my skin continuing. I relaxed against his touch, surrendering to it.

"What do you mean?" I asked through a sigh.

"The child," he prompted softly, one hand slipped lower to brush the skin of my stomach, a barely noticeable bump raised there.

I stiffened lightly. "I hadn't thought about it," I admitted. Truth was I avoided thinking about any of it as much as possible.

His tone was hesitant as he stopped his motions. "I have," he breathed.

I turned my head over my shoulder, giving him a thoughtful look. He never ceased to surprise me.

"Would you like to hear them?" He asked cautiously, his expression tentative.

I nodded encouragingly. "I was kind of thinking of Angel, if it's a girl," he whispered. "And maybe Joseph, if it's a boy...after my brother," he offered, his tone hinted at sadness as he fell silent.

I smiled at him softly.

"I suppose they're as nice as any other names. I think it's a thoughtful idea," I confirmed.

"You do?" He asked.

I nodded. "I do."

"Are you sure? If you have any names you would prefer, I mean we can discuss...you don't have to agree just because I-"

"Because you're my master?" I parted the water in front of me playfully.

He sighed lightly, resting his head on my shoulder blade, his wet strands of gold hair tickling my skin.

"I'm scared," I admitted softly, turning completely in his arms to face him, my legs sliding awkwardly beneath me.

"What are you so frightened of?" his eyes narrowed as he reached forward to cup my face, brushing wet strands of hair back.

"Everything," I shook my head. "Just everything," I reached forward gripping his shoulders tightly, his hands moved to rest on my hips, steadying me.

  
"I've heard it hurts, you know, having a child, and that women have died from it..." I felt like I cowered for admitting it. "And I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to be a mother. I didn't have one of my own, I don't know how...I'm terrified of my child growing up as miserable and alone in the world as I am," my tone was pathetic.

He winced, his expression contouring in pain as he cupped my jaw tighter. He looked like he wanted so badly to say something but stopped himself.   
"The child will be well cared for," he assured me passionately. But what did that mean? Cared for in the way that I was, when his temper was under control?

"I'll care for the both of you," he added. "I may never succeed but I can at least try to make you both happy. I want my child to have everything, and to want for nothing."

"Everything but it's freedom," I added dejectedly.

His face hardened, his gaze lingering. "I couldn't keep you both any other way," he stated, the statement came across like a question.

A question I couldn't answer.

I blinked hard, staring at the water between us. "Do you understand the gravity of what you've done to me?" I asked desperately.

His jaw hardened. "I do."

I balled my hands into fists. "I don't believe you do."

"Y/N, I know what I have done. I realize it more each day. This child is proof of it," he insisted.

"Say it," I commanded, my gaze searching his.

"What?"

"What have you done to me?" I asked pointedly.

He sighed slowly.

"Say it," I persisted.

"Y/N..."

"Say it."

He swallowed hard. "Taken your freedom from you, your life," he said sternly, his expression unreadable.

"What else?" I persisted.

His eyes never wavered from mind, his expression never changing. "Hurt you..."

"Just say it," I choked.

His own muscles tensed. "Raped you. Been entirely cruel, impregnated you. Did I miss anything?"

"That will do," I mumbled.

I hesitated.

"Are you at least sorry for it, for any of it?" I pleaded, trying to read him, to understand him, to reach him.

"I am. All of it. I'm sorry for all of it," he whispered. "I am."

"I'm not your property and not your fiancé or wife, not even your friend. Do you understand that,"

"Y/N..."

I shook my head. "Just don't, Dean. I'm tired," I insisted, pushing from him to stand.

He gripped my arm hard, but when I turned to meet his gaze, he relented and released me.

__________

When he crawled into bed beside me that night, he instantly pulled me against him, instantly breathed the scent of my still wet hair in as he sighed.

  
He slipped an arm around my waist, his hand finding my stomach instinctively, protectively, the way it had so often these past few days.

The way he had embraced the situation had really shocked me. The thought of a child, though he insisted had terrified him, seemed to be something he was warming to. The soft way in which his hands stroked the skin of my lower torso proved that much.

He'd not lost his temper with me once since discovering his child was inside of me, and I wondered how quickly that would change once it was gone, or whether it would simply be a matter of time regardless.

The thought left me sick, and I realized that despite my best efforts, I might not hate the idea as much as I wanted to pretend I did.

________

It was a warm afternoon as I wondered the castle grounds a few days later. It was so beautiful out that I could hardly fathom staying cooped up inside.

As I rounded the castle, admiring the gothic architecture, the intricate stone carvings and the way it seemed to gleam with life in the afternoon sun, I spotted Christine bent over a flower bed.

I smiled, skipping lightly as I came up behind her. "Christine," I beamed, trying not to startle her.

She jumped lightly, turning in shock. When she spotted me she smiled widely. "Y/N," she said warmly.

"How have you been?" I asked, glad to see her.

She nodded. "I've been well, very well," her gaze wavered on my stomach before meeting mine once more. Sam must have told her.

"I've heard some news," she spoke pointedly.

I nodded. "It's true," I confirmed.

Her expression was torn, like she wasn't sure how to feel or what to say. "You're strong, Y/N. You will be fine. The situation is perhaps unfortunate but I wish you the best of luck. I know you will make the most of it," she offered. "It will surely be the most beautiful baby this world has seen," she smiled.

I blushed. "If you ever need to talk," she offered.

I nodded, thankful and sure I would most likely take her up on it at some point. Having a friend, another woman to talk to would be incredible. Maybe she could offer knowledge about all of this, tell me things I had no way of knowing. "Thank you," I smiled.

"Well, well, my two favourite women," we both turned to see Sam pushing a wheelbarrow of dirt our way, stopping and setting it next to the flower bed Christine was working on.

I took in the sight of him, his sleeves rolled up, hair slicked back with sweat, dirt under his fingernails, his muscles contracting with the effort of the work he was doing. I didn't think I'd ever seen him outside, or in such a casual manner. It was a sight that brought a smile to my lips.

"Don't let Mrs. Macleod hear you say that. She'll have your head," Christine teased, stepping forward to wipe a patch of dirt from Sam's cheek tenderly.

She licked her thumb and pressed it firmly against the skin. He smiled, watching her and when she pulled away, he grabbed her hand firmly, pulling her in for a quick but loving kiss.

"I've never seen you working on the grounds," I noted curiously as I watched them with a smile.

Lumere's eyes flickered. "I had the afternoon off," he shrugged. "It's too hot out here and that dirt's too heavy. I figured I could help her out a little," his eyes flashed to Christine and his expression warmed. "Besides, if she gets done early we can spend the evening together," his eyes twinkled and I pitied them. It must be hard to find time to be with each other. "Most of the time, the master doesn't care," he offered, shooting me a cautious look.

"I won't breathe a word," I assured him. "You're very kind," I told him.

He shrugged, sweat glistening from his forehead. I glanced at Christine and noticed how warm she looked as well.

I'd never noticed how handsome Sam could truly be, his unruly hair and loosened clothing showing another side of him completely. He was toned but his build was not as imposing as Dean was, just enough so that it was easy to tell he was strong and healthy. His expression was kind and gentle, his eyes soft. It was then that I saw in him what so plainly captivated the woman next to me.

"Do you have much left to do, can I help?" I offered. The distraction of a task might be a welcome activity. It might save me from the monotony that my days had become.

Christine shook her head. "We are almost finished this patch and it is the last one. Besides, Dean would have us both killed if he saw the woman carrying his child rolling around in the dirt with his servants," she laughed lightly.

My face fell slightly. "I suppose," I nodded.

I could feel Sam watching me from the corner of his eye. "How have you been?" He asked slowly.

"Fine," I shrugged. He nodded.

"How is the little one," he pressed. I shrugged again, not really wanting to discuss it.

"I can see that you may not welcome it now, but the second you hold that child in your arms, you'll never want to let it go," Christine whispered softly.

"Perhaps," I answered dismissively. "I know it is not the child's fault, but it is hard," I offered.

"Dean seems particularly taken with the thing and he hasn't even seen it yet," I scoffed.

"He baffles me," I added.

"That boy is full of surprises," Sam shot me a knowing look. "He was not so accepting at first, but we...spoke," he added kindly. "I think you will soon see another side to him."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "I think I'm starting to," I admitted.

He smiled.

"Perhaps all hope for happiness isn't lost," Sam offered.

"Perhaps," I smiled, watching the way Sam's gaze wondered back to Christine.

He walked up behind her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and I smiled as he left a gentle kiss on her temple. She leaned into his touch.

If a love like theirs could blossom here, in a place like this; if they could find such happiness in this prison, I was beginning to think anything was possible. I grazed my stomach without truly realizing I was doing it-and smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Summer had been long and hot, but beautiful nonetheless. I'd probably never enjoyed a move picturesque summer in my life and was grateful for it.

However, in the weeks after my discovered pregnancy the days began to shorten and the air began to cool. I never thought I'd welcome fall and the coming promise of winter, but I found myself embracing the prospect. Something about a fresh snowfall and the assurance of Christmas excited me.

It was early evening one night when Dean came to me. I was sitting on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, as I watched the sunset slowly in the distance.

I'd continued to be distant and I knew it but Dean hadn't seemed to mind. We'd been peaceful, civil. In my condition he'd been entirely patient with me and I had been grateful for it.

He hadn't dared touch me, and I was beginning to let my guard down around him. I noticed I was less jittery in his presence, but couldn't trust it to last. I couldn't trust his rapidly changing moods any more than I could trust my own these days.

I barely heard him approach, but I sensed his presence immediately, his familiar scent surrounding me as he drew closer.

"Chilly out here," he commented, coming to stand behind me, resting his hands gently on my blanket clad shoulders.

I turned my head over my shoulder and glanced up to see Dean watching me with a small smile.

"I don't mind," I replied, turning my head back towards the sun, watching it sink lower and lower into the horizon with each passing moment. The sky was leisurely changing shades, from pinks to soft blues and I sighed contently as I watched it, drawing in a refreshing breath of cold air.

"Want my jacket?" He offered.

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thanks."

He moved to sit on the bench across from me, watching me the way he often did.

"I wondered if I could show you something?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips.1

I glanced at him curiously.

"What?" I asked hesitantly, cautious of the look in his eye.

He smiled, standing and extending his hand towards mine. "Come with me."

I shot him an uncertain glance.

"Trust me," he spoke softly.

I grabbed his hand and followed him back into the castle, gathering my blanket and throwing it over my arm.

He led me back through the castle towards our room. "Where are we going?" I asked after a few minutes.

"I can't tell you that. No more questions," he shot me a smirk over his shoulder, his expression almost playful as he towed me along. I watched the way he bounced lightly down the hallway and chuckled quietly enough so he wouldn't hear me.

He stopped abruptly just a few rooms down from ours.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Please," he added impatiently. I laughed, never having seen him this excited.

I humoured him and shut my eyes tightly.

I heard him step around me, coming to stand behind me and place his hands over my eyes firmly. "No peeking, sweetheart," he whispered lowly in my ear, his breath hitting my skin and causing me to shiver lightly.

I laughed. "Dean, I'm not peeking!"

He moved one hand to my waist, guiding me as he pushed me forward

I felt him reach forward and open a door we had come to that lead from the hallway. He continued to guide me forward slowly. "Just making sure," he replied, I could hear the smile in his voice.

We stepped even further into the new unknown room before we stopped. He grabbed one of my hands, lacing his warm fingers with mine, giving it a tight squeeze before stepping back.

"Go ahead, open them," he encouraged.

I giggled, opening my eyes and glancing around the room.

It was painted a soft yellow colour, new drapes had been hung in a rich golden colour, and the room had been cleaned extensively.

In the corner sat a wooden rocking horse, intricately carved and painted and breathtaking in its beauty.

My eyes then found a small bed leaning against the far wall, next to it a large wooden crib. I then spotted a few dressers and shelves that would surely be perfect for toys and clothing.

I gasped, glancing back at Dean.

He was watching me, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other balled nervously at his side.

"You like it?" He asked quietly.

I beamed at him, nodding quickly as I bit my lip hard, glancing around at the beauty of the room, the small details I'd yet to take in.

"You did all this?" I asked, moving to run my hands along the side of the crib.

He shrugged. "I had a little help... but yeah," he glanced at me from behind his lashes, an almost boyish look on his face awaiting approval.

"Dean...this is...amazing," I whispered, breathless.

"Our child deserves the best," he answered passionately. "I figured yellow was a fairly neutral colour. I hoped you'd like everything...I mean the child would likely stay in our room for the first while, but I had to think ahead...for you know later, so there's the crib, and the bed, and I figured, you know, any kid likes a rocking horse...I liked mine. Lilly liked hers..." He reached up and stroked the back of his neck gently.

I'd never heard him ramble so much, his insecurities shining through in a way I found truly adorable.

I smiled, stepping into him.

"Dean," I breathed. "It's perfect," I stepped forward grabbing his hand. "Thank you, truly. Thank you," I blinked hard. I could barely comprehend the sweetness of his actions.

"Are you happy with it? Do you want to change anything?" His eyes glimmered as they met mine, his hand sliding down to my stomach instinctively.

"No. Not a thing. It's perfect," I assured him again.

He reached forward, capturing my lips with his. They were warm and gentle, and it was-nice.

For once he pulled away before I did and I caught myself, biting my lip as I gazed at him curiously.

"Sorry," he whispered, searching my gaze.

I shook my head, confused. "No it's...I mean you haven't..." I stumbled over my words, trying to organize my thoughts. "I mean we haven't...in a while," I caught his gaze.

His eyebrows creased.

"Y/N...I thought that...you didn't... like it," he mumbled awkwardly, his face flushing slightly as he gazed at me.

My words were lost as I stared at him blankly.

"I want what's best for the baby and... well I've seen the consequences of my actions so far," his face contoured in pain as he continued. "I don't want to cause you anymore suffering, despite how badly I still yearn for you," he admitted awkwardly.

  
"Oh," I breathed, glancing down, chewing on my lip uncomfortably.

"I thought it was because you'd lost your attraction to me," I admitted slowly. "I mean, with the weight I've put on carrying the child. I thought perhaps my appearance has started to displease you. I didn't mean that I wasn't grateful for the space you've allowed me," I glanced at him sidelong. "I do appreciate that."

He nodded stiffly, his mind reeling before me as he took in what I said.

He finally shook his head stiffly. "Y/N, you're as beautiful as ever," he assured me softly, a small smile on his lips. "In fact, you glow more and more each day. If anything you are more desirous to me than ever before...the thought of my child inside of you...it drives me wild," he whispered, cupping my cheek gently.

"There will never come a day when I don't find you enticing," he breathed. "Never doubt that. I can assure you, love, that is not the problem," his voice was growing hoarse as his hand wondered from my stomach to my waist, groping the lines of my body possessively.

"I have to admit, your curves are incredibly alluring," he growled.

I shuddered. "I am merely fighting with and testing my self-control for your sake, and for the sake of our child," he assured. "I don't wish to harm it," he continued. "Or you," he added quickly.

"Besides, I wasn't aware you were missing me," that smirk crossed his face once more, the air of confidence I was so familiar with closing in once more.

"I wasn't," I insisted. "Just an observation," I persisted, glancing past him, my own cheeks burning. "I'm sorry I asked."

"I am not," he grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist possessively as his lips met mine.

I gasped at the swiftness of his actions. "I will give you a choice then, love," he rose an eyebrow, his expression darkening, as his hands traced the curves of my hips, the hips that were wider and fuller than ever before.

"Do you wish to truly share my bed tonight?" a hand slipped to my lower back, inching further south with each passing heartbeat.

My breath hitched, and I would never consciously admit that I contemplated his offer quite seriously in those brief moments.

"I think you are correct," I said at last. "That it would be best if we did not," I said slowly.

His face fell slightly, but he nodded, not pressing the matter further.

He stepped forward, wrapping a protective arm around my waist as he led us out of the room.

"So, I'm rather hoping it's a boy," he chimed, changing the subject quickly, "because I've secretly been calling it Joseph in my head and I can't seem to stop myself," he mused, kissing my forehead gently.

I laughed. "Don't get your hopes too high," I chastised, breathing in the peace and perfection of the moment-a true rarity amongst us.

"I will love it regardless," he breathed. And I believed him.

The next day found Christine and I chatting in a parlour room of the castle as I finished my lunch. I'd gratefully taken her up on her offer to talk, suddenly realizing how much I appreciate it, as I chewed over my next question.

"You've never had children?" I asked, continuing the general direction our conversation had been headed.

Christine sat across from me in a large green chair with a tall back, casually watching the flames dance in the fireplace next to us, her eyes darting back to mine every few moments.

She tensed. "Once," she answered slowly. "When I was very young, I had a daughter," she hesitated. "The whole story is a rather lengthy one, but she died very early on," she spoke softly.

  
I blinked. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I had no idea." I couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child. I'd felt lose in my life time, felt it extensively. But to lose a child, a part of yourself, the thing you strive to protect above all else, it was incomprehensible.

She offered me a small smile. "It was a long time ago," she said, shaking her head dismissively.

I studied her briefly, noting the weathered look on her face and the heaviness she carried with her that seemed to weigh her down. It was then that I realized that heaviness added to her age. She was youthful in appearance, but something about her soul, the weight of life and its cruel experiences consumed her.

I suddenly wondered at the woman before me. Everyone has a past, and I was dying to know hers. Not willing to pry however, I nodded, offering her a small smile in return.

I shifted slightly in my chair, setting my sandwich down as I took a sip of water. "And what of Sam?" I pressed.

She smiled. "You mean, does he wish to have a child with me?" Her eyes sparkled with the thought.

I nodded.

She shrugged, though the smile never truly left her face. "I suspect he would if I wished it," she spoke softly, her eyes tracing the dancing flames once more. "Though we are both getting older," she played with the material of her sleeve as she thought.

"We also don't have the time. The both of us work so much it is difficult to even see each other," she paused. "I just truly don't believe that a child is in our future. It's not practical and I am fine with that. Besides, I am not sure whether I would ever want to venture there again," she offered, shifting uncomfortably.

I nodded. "I understand."

There was a short silence. "I did not mean to pry. I'm just curious about a lot of things...all of this is so new to me," I offered in apology. "I haven't anyone else to talk to. Well other than Mrs. Macleod who has blissfully convinced herself that a baby could be the best thing in the world for all of us. As much as I understand her hopeful and reassuring nature, I'm not sure she is correct," I admitted.

Christine smiled. "I anticipated you would have many questions. It is alright. Ask away, dear," she encouraged.

I smiled, picking at my fingernails uncomfortably.

"How much does it really hurt?" I asked at last, feeling like a coward for asking.

She laughed lightly, contemplating. I didn't really see what was so funny.

"Y/N," she said at last. "I told myself I wasn't going to lie to you so I won't. A lot."

I cringed. "But once you're holding that child in your arms, nothing else matters. You know in that moment that it was worth every second of pain," she added gently.

"Really?"

She nodded. "Really."

I smiled, glancing away again. "What if...I mean, what if I don't do it right...the whole mother thing. What if I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know what it wants and I do the wrong thing? I mean what if-"

"Y/N," she interrupted gently. "I'll tell you a secret. No one knows what they're doing. It's a lot of learning, a lot of making mistakes, and mostly instinct. There's no rule book to raising a child. You screw up and you screw up again until you get it right."

"That sounds terrifying," I breathed.

She laughed. "You'll be fine. Both of you will be fine. You're brilliant and caring, and so is Dean in his own way. If anyone can figure it out and give this child a hell of a life, it's the two of you," she smiled.

  
"You think so?" I bit my lip.

She nodded. "I truly do."

I smiled, wondering at the way she made me feel instantly better.

"Thank you," I added gratefully.

I reached for my stomach instinctively, running a hand across it slowly. "I'm starting to think maybe I can handle this, you know? Maybe this isn't the worst thing that could happen. Did you know Dean has already got the babies room finished? He pained it and everything. There is this rocking horse he had carved...and this beautiful crib," I beamed at the memory, realizing how proud I was of the idea.

"He's been...really amazing," I admitted at last. "He's really surprised me," I smiled. "At first I was worried, with his temper. I worried for the safety of our child...but," I shrugged. "I've seen a change in him."

"There is some good in that boy," Christine agreed. "A side of him you bring out. You and that little munchkin," she chuckled glancing at my stomach. I laughed.

"Watch out, Y/N. I believe Dean has found someone he adores even more than you, and that someone isn't even born yet. Imagine how spoiled the brat will be," she teased.

I chuckled. "I think you're correct."

It was late in the night when I woke.

I started awake to the feeling of a violent cramp coursing through me. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. My muscles were contracting in on each other, shooting pain through my lower back and abdomen and I could do nothing but blink hard, fisting the sheets as I tried to gain consciousness and figure out the source of the blinding discomfort.

I winced, fisting my hands tightly as the pain continued again and again. I glanced over at Dean, sound asleep beside me as I looked around in a panic, wishing the pain would stop.

Not know what was happening or what to do I took a few steady breaths, trying to think. I pushed my hair from my face realizing it was slick with sweat. It was then that I noticed I was trembling and unable to stop myself.

I was dizzy, disoriented and found it difficult to concentrate on anything for too long.

Trying to gain control of my body, I pushed the sheets aside to sit up further and gasped as I felt them. Wet.

The excruciating pain that was piercing and attacking my lower body had stopped me from noticing until now, but my body and the sheets that surrounded me were all soaked-drenched through with my own blood.

I panicked, squealing out loud as I felt around, my heart rate frantic. I was in a pool of my own blood-a large pool.

I was suddenly wracked with another jolt of pain, this one worse than the last and I let out a wretched sob, doubling over in pain as I clenched the mattress desperately.

"Dean," I breathed, my voice weak.

He didn't stir and I let out another low sob of hopelessness.

"Dean," I yelled through the pain.

He started awake beside me, turning franticly in my direction. I could hear him rubbing his face, trying to wake himself.

"Y/N?" He whispered.

"Help," I whispered. I was suddenly wracked with another jolt of pain, my muscles contracting once more.

He gasped, taking in the sight before him as I cried out.

I could see him fisting one of the blood stained sheets in his hand as he panted in horror.

"Christ," he cursed, reaching for me instinctively.

He jumped out of bed, dashing for the doors. "Mrs. Macleod," he screamed, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. "Sam," he yelled even louder.

His voice carried so extensively in his panic that I had no doubt he would be heard.

I cringed, reaching behind me to fist the bedpost for something to hold onto, not fully understanding what was happening to me.

I cried out again as cramps continued to torment my body.

Dean yelled Mrs. Macleod name one more time for good measure before rushing back to the bed and climbing up beside me.

He grabbed my hand and I squeezed it tightly. "It hurts," I breathed in barely a whisper.

His face contoured in pain. He reached forward to cup my jaw in reassurance. "I know. It will be okay. Everything will be okay. Just hang on, Y/N," he cooed.

Pain continued to shoot through me and I squeezed his hand violently, feeling more light headed by the moment.

I closed my eyes to try and still the dizziness. When I opened them a moment later I caught a hint of terror on Dean's face as he watched me.

"Mrs. Macleod," he roared again, determination etched in his features mixing with the pure terror already present.

He began to mumble quietly to himself in a panicked tone. I couldn't make out what he was saying but I found his voice soothing nonetheless.

"Dean, what's happening to me?" I asked, a tear slipping from my lids.

He shook his head, cupping my face with both of his hands frantically. He brushed my hair back softly before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, but he said nothing.

He just shook his head frantically until at last I heard a bustling.

I saw Mrs. Macleod enter the room, a startled look on her face, but my vision was beginning to cloud.

The dizziness was giving way to exhaustion. I tried to give Mrs. Macleod a reassuring smile but the darkness that had been moving in was surrounding me further with each passing minute.

"Oh, dear," I heard her breathe. "Oh, no," she mumbled, panic lacing her voice as well. "She's losing a lot of blood," she asserted instantly, her tone all business. She rushed towards me, moving to pull the stained sheets out of the way and lay me down on the mattress. I could feel her examining me as I heard Sam enter the room.

"This is bad," she whispered. "Lad, she needs a doctor, and she needs one soon. I cannot fix this, my knowledge is not nearly extensive enough," I could hear them shuffling around, but despite my best efforts my eyes were closing.

I fought to stay conscious.

Dean hesitated. "Sam, get a doctor, go, quickly," he said at last, after only a brief moment of contemplation.

I heard Sam bustle out of the room hastily.

Mrs. Macleod sighed sadly, beginning to tug my wet and stained clothing off of me, running a hand across my slick forehead.

"Is she going to be okay? Is there anything you can do? You have to help her," Dean insisted in a panicked tone. I heard him pacing.

Moments later I felt him walk over and clasp my hand again firmly, stroking it reassuringly.

"There has to be something," he repeated, squeezing my hand tightly.

"I will do everything I can, Dean. I just don't know if it will be enough. She's lost so much blood," Mrs. Macleod admitted sadly.

"But the doctor-"

"May not get here in time," she said slowly, gently.

"But-the baby?" He asked hesitantly.

"The baby is the cause of all of this, Dean," she paused regrettably. "I've seen this before, and I'm sorry but... I don't see how it could have survived," her tone was gentle but even I could hear the panic and sorrow that laced her voice. "Our concern now is for Y/N."

Their voices became fain and distant. Mrs. Macleod took off to get boiled water and fresh rags as Dean began pleading with me to stay awake, but I couldn't have if I wanted to.

The last thing I remember hearing before the blackness consumed me was an unfamiliar sound-the painful sob of a man, a man I once thought was incapable of such a sound, a man grieving the loss of his child and the uncertainty of my life.


	14. Chapter 14

  
What I remembered most about the following days was consuming darkness.

For a brief moment, the world would spin, I would ache, and then exhaustion would settle in and blackness would claim me once more.

In those moments, I was able to comprehend very little. A flash of light, colour, a low murmur, a pair of unique green eyes creased with concern - and then they were all gone.

I did not know how long had passed when I woke that first day, a true sense of consciousness surrounding me for the first time. I blinked hard, feeling dizzy. I shut my eyes tightly for a long moment and the light-headedness slowed enough for me to open them and glance around slowly.

The exhaustion that weighed me down made my eyes heavy. The room was dimly lit, the curtains mostly drawn. I tried to move but found the effort of doing so was too much. I was weak, that much I was gathering quickly, but I was alive.

I turned my head gently to the side, trying to take in my surroundings.

I nearly jumped when I saw Dean seated in a chair at my bedside. He was dozing gently. His elbow was supporting the weight of his head as it lulled to the side lazily. I felt myself smile softly.

I wondered how long he'd been there. Wondered when the last time he'd bathed or changed his clothes had been, wondered at the tension in his body, even in his slumber.

I contemplated waking him but couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew this was probably a rare moment of rest for him.

I could still feel my own exhaustion and I resigned myself to follow it back into a peaceful slumber, if only for a few hours. Maybe when I woke again he would be up. But before I could so much as shut my eyes, Dean started awake beside me, his timing as impeccable as ever.

His head had lolled to the side, falling from where it was braced against his arm and started him awake. I wondered how many times he'd been woken up like that, the way I often was when I used the same position on a long carriage ride. I then wondered why he wouldn't just leave and rest for a few hours.

Dean blinked, his gaze instantly shooting towards my resting form. When he saw that I was awake his body suddenly tensed, his eyes widening slightly, and before I could blink he was leaning towards my body, resting an elbow on the mattress beside me as he inched closer.

"You're awake," he sighed, relief evident.

I offered him a weak smile. 

"God, you scared me!" He blinked hard, shaking his head gently. "I thought I'd lost you..." he asserted in a tormented whisper. "You lost so much blood, Y/N. So much blood," he murmured, grabbing my hand and holding it against him.

He squeezed it gently, placing a kiss to my fingers before meeting my gaze. He didn't release my hand, holding it close to his face, as if touching me might keep me there, might assure him that I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm so tired," I admitted softly, finding it difficult to speak, my voice rough.

He noticed, and moved to hand me a glass of water that had been set at my bedside.

I tried to lift my head and my hands to reach for it, but pathetically realized even that much exertion was exhausting.

Dean winced as he watched me, before gently tilting my head and helping me take a slow sip of the water.

I drank it gratefully, sipping until I finished the glass.

"Thank you," I tried once again to smile at him, wishing I could ease the tension etched across his face.

"You're weak," he spoke slowly.

I nodded. "How long?" I croaked as I tried to turn towards him, if only slightly.

Dean hesitated. "You were unconscious for three days, Y/N. We were all beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up."

I cringed. Three days.

"Dean," I managed, forcing the next words from my lips, "The baby?"

His face contoured in a mask of deep pain as he averted my gaze. I watched him hang his head slightly and swallow hard as he gathered the courage to speak:

"We'll talk about the child later...right now-"

My heart dropped.

"Dean," I insisted, with every bit of strength I could muster, a panicked tone filling my voice.

He sighed deeply, a heavy sadness overwhelming him. 

"The baby didn't make it, Y/N," he said. "It's gone," his voice broke as he confirmed my fears.

Somewhere inside of me I had known the truth of his words all along, but hearing them spoken had an impact so painful I could barely fathom the ensuing ache within me.

"It's all my fault," he breathed. "It's my fault," he echoed.

"By the time the doctor arrived it was too late," his face was haunted. "He said that your body was malnourished, and the abuse it had endured early in the pregnancy... and before..." he stumbled on his words, "had weakened you," his thoughts were jumbled. "That you weren't strong enough to support your own life as well as another's," he brought his thumb and forefinger to his eyes and squeezed them tightly.

"You were healthy when you came here..." he thought aloud. "Healthy, and I - destroyed you," he whispered. I thought briefly of the wine I had consumed before discovering the pregnancy, and wondered whether it had also affected our child.

I felt my eyes water, but it seemed my body didn't even have the energy to cry.

Instead, I let out a dry and distressed sob.

"Y/N," Dean breathed, his expression pained. I looked away.

"I don't know how much more I can take," I admitted in a desperate plea. "I'm so tired, Dean. So tired."

"I know," he cooed, a long moment of silence passing between us. "Sleep." he encouraged at last. "I'll be here when you wake up."

We both knew the gravity of my words, but I hadn't the strength to push my point further. I needed no more encouragement as I surrendered to the peace of the nothingness that tugged at my soul, the rest I so badly needed if I was ever going to recover from the trauma I had endured both physically and mentally-the trauma I'd yet to truly comprehend.

I slipped in and out of consciousness for much of the following day. Sometimes when I woke Dean was resting, too. Sometimes he was awake, watching me from his spot at my bedside.

We spoke very little. He would ask if I was feeling better, wanted any water, could manage something to eat-which I never could-but spoke of nothing of consequence. Once, he even ran a rag across my face in an effort to cleanse the cold sweat that had formed on it. I was grateful.

When I woke the next morning, I could tell my strength was returning. It wasn't an effort to open my eyes and greet the dim morning sun that filled the room.

I turned over gingerly, sore from lying in the same position for so long.

Upon turning an unexpected smile crossed my lips. Dean was sprawled out on the bed next to me, his body facing mine, yet not touching it in any way.

He was breathing deeply, lost in a peaceful slumber.

I studied him, the fatigue in his features, some of his unruly strands of shortcut hair matted with a thin coat of grease. I noted that he was wearing the same pyjamas he had been the night I woke with those terrible pains. He'd bothered to throw on a shirt, but it occurred to me then that he truly hadn't left my side, not even to bathe or by the looks of it eat.

I couldn't imagine how I looked.

I reached forward instinctively to brush a few drops sweat from his forehead, running my fingers along his tired face as I did so.

I traced the light scruff of his jaw and his eyes fluttered open, blinking quickly as he tried to clear his vision.

I offered him a weak smile.

"How do you feel today?" He spoke softly, neither of us willing to disturb the calm silence that surrounded us.

"Better," I admitted.

"I'm glad," he whispered.

I gazed at him for a long moment and he gazed back. He looked like he might reach for me but stopped himself.

"Still so pale," he said, studying me.

"Will you please try to eat something today?" He asked, a pleading tone to his voice. "You're starting to scare me."

I was about to say I didn't feel like it, but thought better of it when his frown deepened.

I nodded reluctantly.

"On one condition: You clean yourself up while I eat, and try to take a nap," I held his gaze steadily.

He hesitated. 

"I'll still be here when you get back," I promised, echoing his earlier comment.

A distant look crossed his face but he nodded and left to call Mrs. Macleod.

A few minutes later, she came bustling into to the room with a tray. 

"Y/N, dearie!" She smiled sympathetically with a cheerful edge. "So wonderful to see you awake. You gave us all quite a fright," she spoke in a chastising tone and I conjured up a smile for her.

"How come you didn't come and see me?" I asked, glancing at the sandwich she was placing in front of me as I tried to sit up.

Mrs. Rowena moved to help me as she answered, "Dean insisted you to be left alone. He said you needed to rest and that he could take care of you. He wouldn't leave."

I'd suspected as much, though I had to admit the notion surprised me.

"I came in a few times to check on you, but you were always sleeping anyways, dearie. Everyone will be glad to hear you're awake," she smiled warmly.

"Am I going to be okay?" I asked uncertainly.

She brightened. "Y/N, you're going to be fine. Like anything, it'll just take some time to get your strength back." 

I nodded.

"Is... is Dean okay?" I asked after a moment, taking a bite of my sandwich slowly as Mrs. Macleod pulled the curtains back to let more light in the room.

Sadness filled me as I thought of our child.

"He is in pain, lass, so as you are," she offered. "He took the loss hard."

I nodded in understanding.

"Perhaps it would help to talk with him about... everything," she encouraged as I took a sip of water, leaving the tea she had brought, deciding to take it slow.

"Dean isn't really the type to... talk about his feelings," I shrugged. "And truthfully, neither am I."

"That could be precisely the problem," she offered gently. "You need to confront and deal with this, not pretend it didn't happen. You lost a child, your first child," she paused. "dearie, you almost died. Nothing about the experience is forgettable. In order to move past it, you need to confront it."

"I know," I hung my head slightly, the weight of the situation crashing down on me.

I pushed my half eaten sandwich away as I gazed up at her.

She shot me a disapproving look.

"I'm tired," I offered, setting the tray aside and turning away from her.

She said nothing as she gathered it and headed for the door.

"Think about it, Y/N," she added softly, shutting the door behind her.

I did think. I thought about a lot, alone with my thoughts and able to contemplate them for the first time. I was tired. I hadn't lied, but not drained enough to surrender myself to the consuming darkness again. I fought to stay awake longer, realizing I had to help myself if I was going to aid in my recovery. Staying conscious for a day was definitely something I had to work towards.

It wasn't long before I heard the door open and shut quietly behind me. The short time lapse had told me Dean had forgotten napping. I contemplated pretending I was asleep, but thought better of it.

I heard footsteps lightly moving across the room and rounding on the bed almost silently. He seemed to be checking if I was awake.

At last, Dean made his way to the side of the bed he had occupied the days prior and slowly took a seat next to the bed again. He looked substantially better, shaved and washed in that handsome way of his.

I met his gaze and held it, as I hugged the pillow beneath me casually.

For awhile nothing was said. One thing I had always admired about the relationship we shared was our ability to speak volumes without ever saying anything at all. In just studying the way he gazed at me I could learn more about him than his words would ever tell me.

He was tense, uncertain, worried, remorseful, and above all - sad. Each emotion radiated from him like heat from a flame.

I prayed he could not so easily read me.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked.

"Me?" He looked taken back. "I didn't almost die, Y/N."

"No. I just," I paused, looking down as I searched for the words. "I know what our child meant to you," I offered, looking up cautiously from behind my lashes.

"No, you don't," he said sadly, his face hardening. "You didn't even want it." My chest ached at his words. "And I don't blame you," he added quickly, his tone still icy. "Just don't pretend you cared about our child."

I winced. "You know that's not true," I answered coldly. "I cared," I blinked hard, my eyes welling in frustration. "I may have despised it at first," I admitted. "But I-you named it... and the nursery," I fumbled to produce a coherent thought as my emotions overwhelmed me. I fought them fervently but tears sprung silently from my lids despite my best efforts. "I loved our child, too," I finally said, realizing it was the only thing that mattered.

Dean softened slightly, leaning in his chair in the casual way he often did, studying me.

"I apologize," he said at last, gazing away from me.

"You don't believe me," I declared sadly, watching the hardened lines of his jaw as it clenched tightly.

"I believe you, Y/N," he said dismissively.

I could feel him retreating from me, and unwilling to feel more alone than I already did, to lose the one thing I had left, I reached for him.

"Will you come sit with me?" I asked softly. "Please? Foolish you not lying in your own bed," I encouraged.

He glanced my way. "I'm not sure if that's the best idea right now," he stated. "I don't..." his expression softened. "I don't want to hurt you. You need your space and you need to rest."

  
My lip quivered at his rejection, his refusal to even be near me.

"I don't want space," I pleaded, wiping my eyes so I could see him clearly. "I want you to get over here and hold me, and tell me you don't hate me for losing your child. I want you to tell me everything is going to be okay, the way you said it was. I want you to stop looking at me like that and just be with me, please," I nearly begged as I yearned for some sort of comfort, feeling empty.

He watched me for a long moment, but his expression didn't change, his mask didn't falter.

"I can't," he said at last, before standing abruptly. "I need some time to think and you need rest," he affirmed. "Please, Y/N, just get your strength back," his tone softened slightly.

I did not turn to and watch him leave. Instead, I buried my head in the pillow beneath me, sobbing lightly until the mental exhaustion became too much for my damaged body to handle and I passed out, giving into his will without even realizing it.

Dean did not return the next day.

Instead, Mrs. Macleod greeted me again with a tray of food and a smile I sometimes wished she would just leave at the door.

"You need to bathe, child. You're strong enough now. Tough love. I won't have you smelling like a dog any longer," she encouraged as I finished my breakfast.

I scowled at her. "I don't feel like it."

"It doesn't matter what you feel like. It's what you need. A good soak will do you good. Time to get up and about," she sounded like my mother again and I stifled an eye roll, realizing I was acting childish. I watched as she grabbed a fresh night gown for me and a towel.

She then moved to the washtub, beginning to fill it with warm water as she hummed.

She emerged again moments later and looked at me pointedly.

"I really don't want to right now," I repeated. "Just leave me be."

"Sweetheart, if you could see yourself, you'd change your mind real quick."

I glanced down, picking at the blanket beneath me. "I don't care what I look like or smell like," I sounded like I was pouting and hated it.

"Come on now, what's this all about? It's not like you," she encouraged, sitting on the edge of the bed softly.

I dared peek up at her, before my eyes found the sheet beneath me once more.

I paused. "He won't even talk to me. I don't know what I did... I don't know what to do," I admitted miserably.

"Oh, don't fret over the Winchester's moods, Y/N. It's just his way of dealing with all of this. He'll come around," she assured gently.

"What if he doesn't?" I bit my lip, terrified of the answer.

She gave me a pitiful look. "Y/N, he always has."

We both turned our heads towards the door as it suddenly opened.

"What did I tell you," she mumbled under her breathe. "The lad can't stay away from you. It's like an addiction," she added playfully. I shot her a warning glare as Dean cautiously stepped into the room.

He caught sight of the towel and nightgown lain out and hesitated, looking around awkwardly.

"I can come back," he offered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Won't be necessary, as Y/N is refusing to bathe anyways," Mrs. Macleod shot Dean a knowing look that I didn't fail to miss.

"Is that right," Dean mused, his gaze calculating, his mood unreadable. "Mrs. Macleod could you leave us, please?" He asked politely. A hint of amusement laced his voice, and the prospect of a challenge seemed to enthral him if only for the moment.

"Of course," she nodded, before shooting me one last 'Told ya' look and left us.

He studied me briefly as I sat up in bed.

"Why won't you let her clean you up?" His tone was all business.

"Why does it matter?"

He sighed. "Y/N, stop. This has gone on long enough and you're getting in the bath. You need to get better and you need to clean yourself up. I understand you right now better than anyone," he offered. "But, you're getting in the tub, whether I have to drag you in kicking and screaming or not," the authority I was so familiar with laced his tone.

"I don't think I have the energy for kicking and screaming at the moment," I admitted.

"Then, you'll remain all smelly,"he mused, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I didn't respond.

"Would you prefer I get Christine or Mrs. Macleod?" He asked at last, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"To be honest, no," I confessed. "If Mrs. Rowena smiles at me one more time I'm going to lose it," His gaze softened. "And I don't want Christine to see me like this," I admitted shamefully.

He nodded in understanding.

"Has...Sam been here?" I asked hesitantly.

"No," Dean replied. "I've kept everyone away so you could have some peace."

I nodded, glad he hasn't seen me like this. "Thank you."

He nodded.

"Bath time," he said at last. "Let's go," he snatched up my bath items, throwing them over his shoulder, before coming around to my side of the bed.

He pulled the blankets back and moved to lift me in his arms.

I stopped him. "Dean, I can walk. I was up this morning getting around," I often wondered if he realized how much I was recovering, or if he preferred to keep treating me so frailly.

He hesitated. "You sure?"

I nodded. "I'm fine," I assured him, swinging my feet off the bed. My assertive motions didn't stop him from placing a hand on my lower back to help me stand. He didn't seem to understand that I was simply weak, not broken. Physically I was fine, and the days of rest I'd had had done wonders for my strength.

However I humoured him as he guided me protectively.

He led me to the next room gingerly, setting my clothing down before turning towards me once more.

He gave me an uncertain look as he reached for the hem of my dirty nightgown, but saw the resolve in my eyes and proceeded.

In that moment, I did not fear his touch. I welcomed it. I welcomed his help and I wasn't ashamed to admit it. I needed it.

He tugged the gown over my head swiftly, keeping his eyes respectively from wondering as he grabbed my hand and helped me step into the tub. I knew I still had the slightest bump where the baby had been, but that it had never really been that large to begin with, and was already beginning to diminish greatly. It was not something I found myself self-conscious of.

I sighed as I climbed in, the warmth surrounding me, sending a shiver of comfort and pleasure through my body.

Yes. I'd needed this. I didn't turn to see the smug look on Dean's face.

I spread myself out, not trying to shield my body under the water from Dean's gaze. I suddenly found that I no longer cared.

I did not feel threatened by him in that moment, nor did I feel his hungry gaze devouring me.

Instead, I felt the gentle touch of a rag caressing the back of my neck while Dean handed me a bar of soap.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, an almost timid look in his eye.

I smiled at him, running the soap along my body.

I gently leaned back as he came around the side of the tub.

"Tilt your head back," he whispered.

I shot him a sidelong look. "You don't have to do this. I can do it," I repeated.

"I know, but let me." He waited.

I nodded, doing as he asked. Dean helped me wet my hair gently, his warm soft fingers caressing my skin.

"Wouldn't this be easier if you got in, too?" I asked.

He laughed darkly. "Not this time," he spoke dismissively.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know," he stopped me.

"I can help just fine like this is all I meant," he finally added.

I nodded silently.

"Dean?" I asked.

"Mmm?" He encouraged as he began washing my hair, massaging my scalp gently as he leaned down next to the tub.

"Do you really hate me?" I asked quietly, glancing down.

"What?" He scoffed.

"Are you angry with me for the miscarriage?" I pressed even more quietly, terrified of the answer.

"Y/N," he breathed. "No," he spoke softly. He reached forward, cupping my chin gently and turning it towards him.

His mask fell. Any residual coldness he'd been hiding behind since our confrontation the day before dissipated. His eyes were laced with sorrow.

"Swan," he mumbled, stroking my jaw lightly with his thumb. "I didn't mean that," he said sternly.

"Then why did you say it?"

"I didn't... we were fighting," his tone was laced with frustration. "Y/N..." he drew his hand along his face.

"I haven't been myself," he spoke softly, a hint of defeat in his tone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely.

He dunked his hand in the tub to rinse it off and I grabbed it lightly. He looked up, meeting my gaze.

"I know you're hurt," I sympathized, understanding fully.

He blinked, taken off guard. "I know how in love you were with our child," I hesitated. "I know Joseph," I dared say the name we had been prematurely calling the baby, "was everything to you," I blinked hard, my eyes clouding over. "I know," I repeated in a choked voice. "You don't have to pretend like it's not killing you the way I know it is," I whispered, a silent tear falling.

"It's killing me," I admitted.

"The one thing that was holding us together and bringing us joy is gone," Dean winced at my words.

I took a steady breath. He was listening to me, truly listening to me as he sat there with a desperate look on his face clutching my hand back tightly. His face was still fierce and strong, but laced with so much pain I ached for him.

For once, he was the one falling apart at the seams. He needed me. And although the role was foreign to me, I stepped into it the best I could.

"The way I see it," I spoke softly, shifting in the tub so I was leaning against the edge, shuffling closer to him. "Our grief destroys us or unites us. It's your choice, Dean. It's always been your choice."

He stared at me for a long moment, before finally hanging his head and glancing away.

"My child is dead," he said slowly. "And I came so close to losing you... that I don't know what I would have done," his tone was full of anguish. "I don't know how I would have survived a life without you in it," he glanced up, gaging my reaction.

"I was scared. Terrified," he said at last. "And now every time I think of our child, it hurts to breathe," his voice cracked.

"I know," I cooed.

His gazed locked with mine for a long moment, and I saw something I'd never seen before with my own eyes. His eyes watered, until silent tears fell from his tortured eyes.

The first sob that escaped him was so quiet I barely heard it, until it escalated into more of a wounded wail.

Seeing a man so powerful and so strong break down in front of me was truly painful. At one time, he'd never have shown such weakness in front of me, would have fought it at all costs. But the fact that he was losing control in front of my very eyes, falling apart piece by piece in my presence, spoke volumes for the change in our dynamic as well as the man in front of me.

Each agonizing sob broke my heart even further and I felt my own tears spring free as I reached forward and cupped his cheek firmly.

Before I knew what was happening, Dean lunged forward, wrapping his arms around me so fiercely that my head spun. He lifted me half out of the tub in the process, but as he clung to me-I clung back. I'd never been held with such aggressive desperation in my life.

His sobbing was low in my ear but I could feel his body shaking as he clung to me. I pried us apart briefly, shushing him as I climbed out of the tub and grabbing the towel, throwing it around my body.

He looked so wounded kneeling on the wet floor watching me that I leaned down, grabbing his hand as he stood.

For one long instant he stared at me, before tugging me out of the room with him towards the bedroom.

His silent tears persisted but he was already gaining control of himself. In that moment I saw a strength in him far greater than anything I'd ever experienced.

Dean climbed onto the bed, pulling me along behind him. He sat leaning against the headboard and I instinctively situated myself next to him, my head resting on his shoulder as I wrapped my arms around his torso, our legs closely entangled.

He sighed, brushing my damp hair back from my face and turning to kiss my temple softly, breathing in the scent of my freshly washed hair.

I gazed up at him sadly; both of us understand the grief of the other.

"Y/N," his voice was hoarse.

"It will be okay," his tone was determined as his eyes searched mine. He leaned down, wiping the remainder of my tears from my cheeks.

I nodded, wishing I could believe his words. Seeing this in my eyes he continued. "I will take care of you," he assured me.

"I know," I said weekly.

"Do you?" He pressed seriously, his expression fierce.

"I do."

He nodded abruptly. "Good," he breathed, stroking my hair soothingly yet possessively.

"We'll be okay," he mumbled, assuring not only me but himself.

He wrapped his arms around me, responding to my touch. His chin found the top of my head and we lay like that in a comfortable silence for a long time.

At some point Dean blew out the candles in the room before returning to his position next to me and tugging the blankets around us.

He stroked my hair and ran his fingers along my arm affectionately for many hours, a sense of normalcy surrounding me that I'd admittedly missed. It wasn't long before I drifted to sleep in his grasp, a comforting familiarity encasing me the way his arms did.

The next day I began to manoeuvre about the castle. I was feeling substantially better and knew it was time to start getting back into a routine in hopes of finding a sense of familiarity again within the castle.

Dean said he had some work he had to take care of that could not be delayed any longer and spent the day in his office. So, I wondered the hallways of the castle, avoiding human contact the best I could. The last thing I wanted was to talk to anyone about what had happened, or hear how sorry they were for my loss.

I knew where I was going as I slowly walked the halls, but I couldn't stop myself. The room was like a magnet, pulling me to it with a force I could not fight.

My heart ached as I rounded the familiar hallway, but I did not stop when I found myself outside of the oak door. I should have turned back but it was too late for that.

I took a deep breath, turning the nob quietly, as if any sudden movement might disturb the peace of the empty room. I stepped inside tentatively, taking in the pale yellow walls and the haunting silhouette of a rocking horse.

My heart ached as at last I stepped towards the looming emptiness of the crib. My hand moved to my stomach without conscious thought and I clutched my torso in desperation.

Empty. Wrong.

I blinked hard, hanging my head as I clutched the bars of the crib tightly.

The one thing that had begun to make my life bearable had been torn away from me violently and once again, I had nothing. For a few months the prospect of this child had brought me joy, and like everything else that had done so, it was now gone.


	15. Chapter 15

The air grew colder as winter approached. Dean and I were as unmoving as the freshly frozen pond outside of the castle-numb as the sting of an icicle.

Everyone in the household had expressed their condolences, and we'd had an informal funeral for the child. Dean had decided to bury our baby on the grounds, under an old tree. He'd had a marker carved from wood in its memory, and done so while I was still unconscious - unsure whether I would soon join the child.

When my strength began to return, there was nothing I could do but wander towards the small grave and try to pay my own respect to the soul I never knew, the baby that never had a chance to live.

The experience was an unsatisfying one that left me feeling heavy.

The morning of winter's first snowfall a few weeks later, Dean found me aimlessly gazing out a large window onto the castle grounds. I was admiring the beauty of the lawn covered in a thin blanket of snow. The flakes had been falling heavily throughout the day, and were beginning to heap as they covered the grounds.

"It's really coming down," Dean noted, stepping behind me slowly, pulling the curtain further to the side over my shoulder. His arm brushed against mine.

I nodded. "When I was young, I loved to skate on days like this. Calm wind, not too cold, a steady snowfall," I spoke, following the flakes as they danced to the ground.

Dean reached forward, gathering my hair and moving it off of my shoulder so he could kiss it gently, his warm soft lips leaving a shiver along my spine.

He breathed deeply. "Let's go."

I turned my head over my shoulder. "What?"

"Skating," he encouraged.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Come on," he tugged at my hand. "The pond's frozen over. Time to get out of the house."

After properly bundling up, we headed out with our skates in hand. Dean intertwined one glove clad hand with mine as we started towards the pond. I pulled my long rich red coat closer as the wind gust around us, glancing sidelong through my blowing hair at Dean. He looked sharp in a long thick black overcoat that fit his form like it was made for him-which it probably was.

I took a seat on the bank, lacing my skates as Dean walked around the pond quickly, declaring it safe.

"Solid," he assured me, coming to sit beside me and put on his own skates, shooting me a hopeful look.

"I haven't done this since I was a child," I admitted, standing as I moved tentatively towards the ice.

He followed close behind me. "Neither have I," he laughed lightly, coming up beside me.

"I'm not sure I entirely remember how to do this," I shook my head. "If I fall, you cannot laugh," I chastised.

He smiled.

I hesitantly stepped onto the ice, making sure I had my balance right before gradually pushing off. Dean watched me before following, always staying closely by my side. I swayed on my feet, feeling Dean's hand on my lower back, steadying me as we moved.

I pushed off again and again, gliding gracefully and a smile crossed my face.

"Seems you've got the hang of it again," he breathed in my ear. I shivered as I glanced over my shoulder, watching his faultless graceful strides. Always the picture of confidence and perfection. 

I sighed.

"This isn't as bad as I-" my reply was lost as my heart stopped.

The blade of my left skate ran over a small twig on the ice and I lost my balance, my leg slipping to the side as I tumbled backwards, praying that my head wouldn't collide with the ice too hard.

But it never hit.

Two sturdy arms swooped under my shoulder blades and caught me mid-air, pushing me upright swiftly. I heard Dean chuckling lightly as I caught my balance and faced him, that familiar smirk playing on his face.

"Careful," his tone was mocking.

I rolled my eyes at him in annoyance. "Thanks," I breathed.

He smirked, skating up beside me, locking his arm with mine as we floated along the pond, heading under a tall walkway ahead.

He grabbed my hand, guiding me. A gesture that I couldn't deny made my heart flutter. I squeezed his hand gently, a warmth spreading through me.

He tugged me along as we glided easily along the ice. We circled the castle, following the path of the large pond, and snow began to fall lightly around us, tickling my nose. I chuckled as it stuck to my lashes.

Dean laughed, watching me, before glancing away with a chuckle. On a whim, I reached down, grabbing a handful of snow and balling it tightly in my hand, wanting to see that smile again.

I waited until he turned his head before chucking it at him with a laugh and dropping his hand to skate away.

He growled, but not the angry growl I had become so used to. A playful growl with the edge of a challenge. I laughed, revelling in the feeling of it, of how much I'd missed it. I glanced over my shoulder quickly as I fled from him.

Dean was skating full force, pursuing me, hunting me in the way he had so many times before, but today I welcomed it. I welcomed the smirk on his face, his booming laugh as he reached down to gather a fist full of snow in his hands, the way his eyes lit up as I ducked around a bend, throwing myself off the ice and behind a tree.

I panted, hiding behind it as I heard him coming closer. A snowball hit the tree beside me and I squealed, ducking behind another.

I took no more than three steady breaths before I felt an unwavering grasp on my waist, holding me firmly against the tree. "Gotcha," he breathed in my ear.

I turned my head over my shoulder, seeing him standing there with a snowball and a raised eyebrow.

My breath hitched. "It appears as though you've won again," I panted, eyeing the snowball as I turned to face him, pressing my back to the trunk.

"It seems so," he smirked, giving me a long look.

He dropped the snowball.

I smiled, sliding against the trunk of the old maple to the ground, before falling backwards into the cool snow, breathing lightly.

Dean watched me curiously as I moved my arms back and forth in the snow, smiling as I did so.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a hint of amusement.

"Snow angel," I replied, patting the ground next to me.

He plopped down beside me, glancing at me sidelong for a long moment before reluctantly following my actions and making his own angel, presumably twice the size of mine.

I breathed deeply as I watched him, feeling like a woman and a child at the same time. I scrutinized the way the perfect crystals of moisture fell from the sky and danced across his skin. That was exactly what he was to me, what he appeared to be-an angel. How could such beauty be anything else? How could that smile belong to anything but?

I saw no hint of the demon that I knew raged within him; his temper as cool as the snow that covered us, his expression warm as the glow within my heart.

  
He rolled to the side, destroying his angel as he studied me.

I shivered in the wind as I watched the snow dance to the ground around us, brushing the wet hair from my face.

"Cold?" He asked.

I nodded.

He stood slowly, pulling me up and into him. "Let's go in and get warm."

  
I stared at the flames dancing before me, my gaze lingering on our wet coats and mittens hanging nearby as I snuggled against the bearskin rug. I sprawled out before the warm glow of the fireplace, soaking in the dry heat as I inched closer.

Dean came in the room quietly a moment later, holding two mugs and a large blanket. He smiled warmly, passing me a mug and throwing the quilt over me.

I pulled it tight gratefully as I gazed down into my cup curiously, looking at the dark liquid. I sniffed it. Not tea.

"Hot Coco," Dean explained.

"I've never had it," I replied, staring at it hesitantly.

"Try it," he encouraged. I faltered, taking a slow sip, letting the warm liquid slid down my throat.

I smiled. "It's good," I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at him as he watched me. I noted the way his own damp clothing hung on him and patted the area next to me.

He sprawled out beside me and I covered him with some of the large blanket, instantly warmer for his presence.

"Why have I never heard of this before?" I asked, gesturing to my cup.

He shrugged. "It's expensive, I suppose, just newly adapted. The elite drink it. The king has developed a taste for it as of late and I picked some up on my last visit," he mused. I was reminded of his distant ties to royalty once more, the power he held. I had almost let myself forget these things, if only for a moment.

I nodded. "The king... he's quite far away," I contemplated.

"Yes," Dean confirmed. "A few weeks journey each way to that part of the country," he set his drink down, turning over on his back. Dean propped his arm behind is head as he laid staring up at me.

I supported my weight on my elbows as I cupped my drink between my hands, gazing down at him.

"You haven't been on a long journey like that since I've been here," I observed, staring at my drink intently. "You've been gone for days but never weeks or months," I glanced at him, the light dancing off of his features as the room fell dark. The sun set early in the winter months, leaving the castle bleak most of the time. The light let in by the windows was often quickly replaced by candlelight long before dinner was even served.

There was no need for that now though. The fire was all we needed.

Dean watched me inquisitively. "I've found little reason to leave," he responded quietly.

I stared at him, taking another sip of my drink, closing my eyes at the warm sensation, a shiver ripping through me. I shuddered, setting my own drink aside.

"Still cold?" He asked, his eyes creasing in concern.

I nodded, tugging the blanket closer.

He pulled me down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly as we laid entangled in silence, nothing but the peaceful backdrop of crackling embers to disturb us.

"Maybe you should take those wet clothes off," he breathed.

I rolled my eyes, glancing up at him in annoyance.

He stiffened.

"I didn't mean-"

I patted his chest dismissively.

"I worry for you," he admitted after a moment. "That you're still so weak. You're still recovering-"

"I'm fine," I assured him quietly, not wanting to remember.

He nodded, pulling me closer.

I sighed, warm, content.

I caught sight of the book I'd been reading earlier lying near us in front of the glowing embers. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Not the first time I'd read it by any means, but one of my favourites.

Dean followed my gaze.

"Read me something," he encouraged, reaching for the book and passing it to me.

I looked up at him cautiously as I took the story from him.

"Please," he encouraged, nodding.

I smiled, opening the book to where I had left off as I leaned back down on his chest, holding it in front of me. He closed his eyes as he waited.

I spoke softly "Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote. The unreasonable fury of a beast, unseemly woman in a seeming man! Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both."

I heard him sigh lightly, listening to my voice as he rested his hands behind his head.

I smiled, continuing on. He listened contently, peacefully. At times I could feel him watching me but I took no notice.

We laid like that for a long time, calmly in each other's arms as spoke. At last, I looked up.

His eyes were dancing between me and the page; a tranquil look adorned his features.

"To rather die than live without someone; such a powerful love," he mumbled.

"I'm not there yet," I gasped.

"I'm familiar with this story," he smirked.

"Then why ask me to read it!"

"I like the sound of your voice," he breathed, gazing at me with amusement. "And the look on your face as you lose yourself in a story," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair back from my face.

I rolled off of him, moving to lie beside him, supporting myself on my elbows in front of me. My hair fell around me like a curtain as I set the book down in front of me, gazing at it tenderly.

I pushed my hair back. It was still slightly damp, tangled and wavy from the snow, but we were both drying off comfortably.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, watching me sidelong.

I looked over; he was watching me from his spot, sprawled out on the floor in calculation.

My cheeks burned hot and I shook my head lightly, glancing away.

He inched closer, sitting up so he was next to me and behind me all at once. Surrounding me. Consuming me. His closeness brought such warmth to my body, such comfort. He pressed his nose gently against my still slightly damp hair and breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, resting his hands on my shoulders gently, rubbing them slowly.

I turned my head over my shoulder and he tugged my hair back out of the way as I nodded, biting my lip.

He ran his hands down the length of my arm, down my torso to my hips where my body had been slowly shifting, returning to its normal size. I hadn't needed exercise to get there, as the toll the entire experience had taken on me left me weak and with little appetite. Dean worried I would end up smaller than I had been before I'd been with child, though we both avoided such conversations with discomfort.

He turned my chin tenderly towards his, placing a kiss on my temple. My heart fluttered.

This side of him-god it left me weak. Though I'd been seeing more of it as of late, I couldn't trust it-couldn't depend on it.

"Are you okay?" I countered, catching his gaze.

"Getting there," he whispered honestly.

I nodded.

Dean leaned forward, his lips barely brushing mine in a tantalizingly soft gesture. My heart stopped. He pulled away, putting some distance between us as he stared at me, his jaw locking.

I caught his gaze timidly, wondering what his next move would be, whether he would touch me. I suddenly felt terrified at the prospect of becoming pregnant again. I remembered the unbearable pain of losing our first child, the pain he'd put me through at times when he'd taken me, and shivered.

My breath hitched. Could my body handle this if it happened once more? Surely this time I wouldn't make it.

His gaze hardened.

He leaned forward, grabbing me tightly around the torso as he pulled me against him. I fell into his frame again as we laid there.

"I won't touch you," he whispered shamefully in my ear. "I won't hurt you."

He pulled me closer still and my shivering ceased.

We both jumped at the sudden noise of footsteps bustling down the hallway.

Mrs. Macleod eyes widened as she rounded the corner. "Oh, sorry, dears. I can come back later," she whispered, noting the way our bodies were entangled before the hearth.

Her lips pulled up just slightly into a smile.

"It's fine," Dean assured her, nodding in a more assertive tone than he'd been using with me, causing me to stiffen slightly.

He reached for his mug of half-finished hot chocolate and held it out.

She came over and collected mine too, watching us casually. "If you need anything," she nodded.

I smiled at her before closing my eyes again against Dean's torso. His arms encased me once more and I relaxed.

"Are you happy in this moment?" He asked, echoing his earlier words-the words he had asked me so many times.

"Yes," I breathed.

"That's all I ever aspire to," he whispered, placing a sweet kiss on my neck.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer as we laid there.

"Are you?" I asked softly, turning to see his reaction.

He nodded slowly.

"That is all I've ever wished for you," I admitted.

He blinked.

"I wish you would not wish for me at all. I do not deserve it," he spoke, brushing my cheek gently with his thumb.

I shook my head, reaching forward to cup his jaw lightly, the light scruff tickling my hand. "I'm starting to think you do."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't thank me. Just enjoy😁❤️🌚✨

Months passed in peace, but we never forgot, and we were never as we were before. Never as light, always heavy, but these things we could not change, and so we moved forward.

Dean was visibly working to restrain himself daily, trying to bring a smile to my face and contain the darkness within him. It was an effort I commended but always feared would one day fail. He told me one night that he wanted to do something for me. When I asked, he simply smiled and said it was a surprise. For days the castle was a buzz. Sam and Mrs. Macleod shared looks of secrecy and sly smiles when I passed them but their lips were sealed, too.

I was lying in bed one afternoon reading, when Dean came in the room in a burst of supressed excitement. He had been so... full of life lately. So good. The circumstances under which I had come to this place seemed so foreign, like a life time ago, but always hung over us.

I smiled at him as he beamed at me in excitement. "What?" I asked with a chuckle, setting my book down and sitting up.

"Y/N, would you dine with me tonight?" He asked, shifting nervously on his feet.

"I dine with you every night."

"Right," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before holding up his hands and bustling out of the room.

"I got you something," he called from the hallway. "I was hoping you might like it, and that you might do me the honor of wearing it," his voice grew closer once more and I couldn't help smiling at this Dean, at his almost boyish uncertainty.

He came back into the room, holding out a long and gorgeous rose ashes gown in his arms, biting his lip in insecurity as he appraised my reaction of the gift.

The smile fell from my lips as I stared in complete wonder at the material. I stepped off the bed, slowly moving to run my fingers over the smooth silky cloth.

"If you would rather something else, I-"

"Dean," I breathed, wide eyed. "No. This is breathtaking," I took it from his hands, holding it out before me, examining the slim waist and the way the gown flowed outward at the bottom in endless layers and ruffles. "Why did you go to all this trouble for dinner?" I gasped.

He glanced at me with a calculating gaze as I fingered the dress in my hands. "I, well, I just wanted you to have a nice night, where you could get dressed up and enjoy yourself, you know? I just wanted to give you a night out, one that I know you've been deprived of since coming here. I just thought you might like the whole... fiasco of it I suppose," he smirked.

"A night with you would be perfect," I breathe. "It would be normal." He smiled, nodding hesitantly.

"Good, I uh-I'll send Rowena to help you get ready, and come for you later," he added.

I nodded as he left the room swiftly, shutting the door behind him.

I turned, staring longingly at the dress laid out on the bed, trying not to remember the last time he'd given be a dress and ordered me to dinner. It wasn't an order this time. It was a request. One I had very willingly accepted.

I bathed, and when I had finished, Mrs. Macleod was bustling around the bedroom grabbing brushes and pins in excitement. I smiled at her, wrapping a towel around myself as I came to join her.

"Hello, dearie," she greeted me warmly.

"What's all this about?" I asked again in a last ditch effort.

She chuckled quietly. "It's not about anything. I do believe the master wanted to put a smile on your face. And for once, there is no other motive."

I considered her words as she helped me step into the lavish gown and do it up, situating the material on my body. We tugged and tied and pulled, but very little effort was needed, as the dress seemed molded to my body. Nothing had ever fit me like this. Nothing had ever been more meant for me.

"You're a vision, Y/N," she said with a small smile, as she watched me ruffle the material around me. I smiled at her, feeling a lot more like a royalty than I'd ever allowed before, more important that I'd ever let myself believe I was. I knew the foolishness of these thoughts, but allowed myself to indulge them if only for the evening.

"Thank you," I breathed, throwing my still damp hair off my shoulder.

"Sit down," she motioned for the vanity and I took a seat in front of the mirror and desk, trying not to embrace the term in which the piece of furniture had been made for; but in this dress it was hard not to.

Mrs. Macleod combed my hair out, brushing the tangles free and creating the soft waves that hung down my back. She twisted some of them skillfully, pinning and pulling pieces of hair as natural ringlets formed in the silky strands. I let her go, saying nothing as she arranged the strands with talent. It had been a very long time since someone had done this to me, making me beautiful in a way I did not know how to as I sat peacefully and watched.

She smiled at me as she worked. The top of my head was gaining volume as she pieced it together carefully. Some of my long hair remained down, falling across my back and shoulders, while some of it was pulled against my scalp, pushed and brushed and pinned in a way that framed my face perfectly. She artfully arranged a few curls around my face delicately before pulling away.

Mrs. Rowena turned me and applied a thin layer of make-up, something I had never been accustomed to wearing. When she spun me again with a fond look on her face, I scarcely recognized the woman in the mirror, for her features were sharper and lovelier than the ones that belonged to me, her hair silkier and beautiful. It fell in exactly the right places. Her beauty was something that did not belong to me.

I blinked, wide eyed, my expression exaggerated further by the dark liner on my lids and lashes.

"Amazing, Mrs. Macleod," I breathed, admiring her handy work, "Amazing..."

"It wasn't much," she offered. "I had quite a canvas."

I stood, glancing at myself in the full length mirror: the curls that fell down my shoulders, the slim waist line accentuated by the curves of my dress, the almost scandalous bust line emphasized by the off the shoulder cut of fabric. I tugged at the top of the dress in an effort to create a false modesty. The material was so tight, it would not move.

Mrs. Macleod chuckled, swatting my arms away as she slipped on the matching gloves and I pulled them tight. "If I had your beauty, I'd be embracing it, not hiding it," she nodded pointedly. This wasn't her typical conservative advice and I chuckled lightly at it.

There was a soft rap on the door and I started slightly. "Are you decent, Y/N?" Dean called cautiously from the other side of the door.

"Yes," I called through a smile, turning swiftly as the door opened behind me.

Dean stepped in the room, dressed sharply in a dark suit, contrasting perfectly to my dress. It fit him just right, and though I'd seen him dressed well before, never had he appeared so handsome. He stood straight, and tall. His royal blood had never shone so brightly within him.

He looked in awe as he approached me, his eyes scanning every inch of me, but not with the hunger or deviousness they once had. His expression was simply one of wonder. He glanced at me as if I wasn't real.

I watched his handsome form stepping towards mine and felt Mrs. Macleod bustle gleefully from the room with an approving murmur, "Well done, Winchester."

"Y/N," he breathed, his eyes wide as he reached tenderly for my hand. I fidgeted uncomfortably. He pulled me closer to him.

"You are breathtaking," he breathed in my ear. I shivered. Before his proximity could truly affect me, he backed away carefully, smiling fondly.

"You look great, Dean," I returned. "You always look great." A hint of modesty crossed his features as he glanced away, before the confident smirk returned. He held out his arm and I took it.

" _M'lady_ ," he said playfully, leading us from the room.

"Won't you tell me what you've got planned?" I pressed as I nervously walked down the long corridor with him.

His strides were relaxed as he led me along. He glanced sidelong at me, smiling as his gaze lingered on my profile.

"No chance, sweetheart."

We walked in a comfortable silence, and when we reached our destination, I recognized it at once. It was one of the first places Dean had shown me in his home, one we both found breathtaking.

Sam was standing at the center of the grand ballroom with its full grand staircase and adjoining balcony. He was dressed in his fine clothing, next to an elegantly set dining table, wearing a warm smile.

I gasped as we approached. I noted the way the table was positioned precisely in the middle of the room, a chair at each end with a simple red rose as its centerpiece. I blinked hard, knowing I had to be dreaming.

"What did you do?" I whispered to Dean as he led me to my seat and Sam pulled out my chair.

"You look splendid," Sam offered, pouring wine into my glass.

"Nice suit," I responded with a sly smile.

He chuckled silently.

Dean took his own seat and gazed at me from across the table. It was much shorter than the one in the dining room, allowing for a new closeness between us as we dined.

I arranged my dress, situating myself. "I cannot believe you did this for me."

"I would do anything for you, Y/N," he answered passionately.

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"I don't know how to thank you," I persisted.

He chuckled. "There is nothing to thank. We haven't even eaten."

As if on cue, Mrs. Macleod, Christine and another woman came into the room with a tray of food, setting bread on the table and the first course of our meals in front of us.

I breathed deeply, taking in the scent of it all.

I smiled at Mrs. Macleod in wonder as I took a sip of my soup and glanced up at the large intricate ceiling of the room. My eyes traced the intricate designs. I had never felt smaller than in that moment, a speck in the vastness of the room.

"This room was meant for royalty. It was built for hundreds of guests," I breathed, glancing around.

"And once it served its purpose," Dean spoke softly, as if not to disturb the ghosts of the space, the quiet memories of an elegant past long forgotten.

I wondered what it had looked like filled with dancing couples and a string quartet. I wondered at the dresses and tuxedos, the laughter and chatter that would have echoed off the walls.

"Perhaps one day it will see its former glory," I offered, finishing my soup and eating a small piece of bread as my plate was cleared. I wondered how much I would reasonably be able to eat without breaking the seams of my tight gown and realized it didn't matter. Nothing mattered because this moment was perfect.

  
Dean's eyes lingered on mine throughout almost every moment of the meal. Though he was equally appealing to the eye, I respectfully glanced away from time to time. He of course, did not care for such modesty-never had.

We talked of everything and of nothing, and when the desert was cleared away I couldn't take it any longer. I stood swiftly yet carefully and walked to the other side of the table, leaning lightly against it as I cocked my hip and held out my hand.

Dean eyed it warily and with confusion.

"Dance with me," I glanced down at him with half lidded eyes.

He swallowed hard, shifting in his chair.

"Y/N..."

"Please," I pouted.

He looked almost embarrassed. "An offer more tempting than I've received in a long time...but I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"I really...do not dance, Y/N," he insisted. "Besides, there is no music."

"We don't need it."

"I can't."

"Cousin to the king, frequenter of the royal court, and self-proclaimed ladies' man...and you cannot dance?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"I _don't...dance_ ," he corrected.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet forcefully. He stood startled. I placed his hand on my waist.

"You do now," I said, as I gripped one of his hands tightly. He blinked quickly.

He tensed but relented, his movements restrained as he pulled me further against him.

"It's not a good thing I have a weakness for you," he breathed as he pulled my form against his and we moved slowly across the floor.

A slow melody came from the far regions of the room, and I did not look to see who or what was providing the music, only that the tempo was perfectly matched with our strides and many candles had been extinguished.

Dean led, despite his hesitance, and his movements were fluid. He was confident as he was in everything else, skilled too, and graceful as ever. I wondered at his reluctance

My eyes adjusted to the changing light of the room, and I glanced out the large windows to the stars outside. The night was clear and the sky full.

I rested my hand on Dean's chest as I caught his gaze, leaning my head against his shoulder. I breathed in his scent, wondering at the true happiness of the moment. Pondering how in the world we had arrived at this place.

I glanced up, our faces inches apart, and for a moment thought he might kiss me. But he did not. In fact, he held me like a porcelain doll. As I held his gaze, I tried to find the anger there that I was so familiar with, the fury and that temper. But I saw only softness. Only admiration.

Dean reached up and brushed the hair away from my face, his touch gentle.

"I've hurt you, Y/N," he whispered, his expression fierce.

His arms wrapped further around me, and I was overcame with the feeling of safety.

"We have hurt each other."

He winced. "You cannot compare the two," his jaw tightened, and so did his grip on my waist. "I know that you will never be able to forgive the things I have done. I don't deserve as much," he began. "But, perhaps, we can try to put it behind us."

I thought on his words for a long moment.

"How do I know the past isn't just going to repeat itself?"

His expression was stoic. "You don't."

  
I said nothing as I reached up to brush the slight stubble on his face with my fingers.

"Our past is something I would rather not focus on tonight," I said dismissively, unwilling to ruin this moment. I knew where these conversations always led, and to fight was the last thing I wanted.

He nodded, bringing my hand to his lips and placing a tender kiss on it. Dean reached over and grabbed the lone rose from the centerpiece. He broke off the thrones before handing it to me. I smiled at the gesture as he guided us out onto the balcony and we took a seat beneath the stars. He slipped his jacket off and let it fall around my shoulders.

I rested my head on his shoulder as I leaned against his frame and he wrapped an arm around me instinctively, kissing the top of my head.

We gazed at the picturesque evening, and I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly.

"You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off of you in that dress," his voice was low in my ear, but his posture was relaxed.

"What's stopping you," I asked into his chest, my comfort at a level I'd never thought possible in his arms.

"Everything," he answered, his voice hoarse. He ran his hand slowly down my arm and I felt myself stirring, warming to him as well. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

My gaze caught his as I leaned into him.

"Then don't," our lips met, just the slightest brush between them. At last he captured my lips softly before exhaling deeply, cupping my jaw in his hands.

"It seems everything I have ever done has hurt you," he winced, his expression pained. "I touch you and you cringe. I put my child in you and nearly kill you. It's entirely my fault and I-" he swallowed hard, his face torn as he struggled with his words.

"Am I cringing now?" I whispered, pulling him closer, his proximity intoxicating, and his gentleness endearing.

The prospect of pregnancy still terrified me, of what could happen from our intimacy, but despite everything between us I knew whatever we had to face, he would face it with me, and my yearning for him won out. My rationalization was not the clearest it had been, but I wanted him in the way he wanted me. I wanted him the way a woman wants her man.

I led his hand to my waist the way I had when we danced, and he gripped it firmly as I kissed him once more. His movements were hesitant, but as I slipped a cool hand under his shirt and placed it firmly against his chest, my lips moving urgently against him, he noticeably relented, lifting me in his arms.

I squealed in shock, wrapping my arms around his neck tightly as he carried me swiftly, his lips back on mine as he maneuvered the castle blind with an intimacy only he had for the layout.

"Dean," I called through a laugh, glancing up at him.

"Yes, beautiful?" A full smile played on his lips. A grin unlike one I was sure I'd ever seen on him before.

"Nothing," I whispered, lunging for his lips once more.

He brought us to the hearth, laying me on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. "You were getting too cold out there. I know how you like nature, but sometimes you forget yourself."

I smiled at his thoughtfulness and pulled him down on top of me, reaching for the collar of his shirt, kicking my shoes off. I noticed he had removed his, too.

"Are we alone?" I whispered, glancing around.

He nodded against me. "They've all gone to bed."

His eyes caught mine, before slipping lower, truly allowing himself to be intoxicated by me as his gaze found my full breasts protruding from their silky confines.

His lips met mine as he reached down, gripping my breasts firmly. He struggled to pull them free urgently but the material was too tight. I chuckled, sitting up and reaching behind me to loosen the dress. He grabbed my hand, stopping me, as he turned me, placing a gentle kiss on my shoulder as his fingers expertly worked to undo the corseted back.

He placed a kiss on my newly exposed shoulder blade, reaching around to cup my breasts as he showered my neck and back with affection.

I turned towards him, unable to handle another moment, my chest heaving deeply as I reached for him, pressing the bare skin against him. I climbed onto his lap, tugging the top of my dress further down my torso, unable to stop myself from coming into contact with him in as many ways as possible. My nipples hardened against the cold brass of the buttons of his suit. I kissed him hungrily as I tugged at the material of his shirt.

He wrapped an arm around my back, tracing the skin softly as I worked, running his fingers through my hair. He helped me as I tugged at his loose white shirt that had lain beneath his jacket, eager to run my hands across his toned skin. Dean fisted one of my breasts firmly, burying his face in my chest for a moment as I heaved against him in excitement, still working at his shirt. He kissed his way down my torso, sucking and biting softly as he went and I let out a shaky breath, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself.

At last, I pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him in just his pants as I pushed him down onto the rug, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist as I gazed down at him, admiring the beauty of his figure, the glimmer of wonder in his eyes. I leaned over him; his eyes devoured me, my breasts hanging above him, my hair falling around us. I leaned down, pressing our forms together, our chests touching, our lips meeting, his hands finding my waist.

We stayed like that for a long time, showering each other in affection. Dean explored my body, kissing it, caressing it, and I his. We kissed and we held each other, and I felt him grow harder and harder beneath me until he turned to stone.

At last his hands wondered lower, slipping from my waist to bunch the bottom of my dress and find their way beneath the layers. His hands grazed the skin of my legs, my thighs, and higher, cupping my backside firmly in their grasp. I rocked my hips against him urgently, placing a kiss on his neck as I gasped with need.

His hands roamed, toying with and circling the place I needed them most, before finally brushing the skin there.

"Help me get this off," I begged, tugging at the remainder of my dress. He smirked, pulling and helping me slide from it as we threw it aside, and I remained straddling him fiercely with need, my hips rocking into the fabric of his pants at their own accord. He watched me for a minute, my form gyrating above him, my hands on either side of his head, his eyes darkening at the sight. His hands found my lower back, slipping further as he traced my movements, slipping a finger inside of me.

I cried out, placing a hand firmly on his chest to steady myself, my mouth gaping open as his fingers moved expertly.

Unable to handle another moment of agony, I reached between us, fisting the front of his pants roughly. His eyes closed. I reached for the belt, loosening his pants and tugging them down with urgency and he swallowed hard beneath me, helping me push them off.

When he was finally bare beneath me, I grasped him hard in my hand, tugging swiftly on his member, needing him to feel the need within me, the need I had for him. Needing his yearning to match mine.

I glimpsed down at him and a silent confirmation passed between us. He reached up and cupped my jaw gently with one hand, as the other met mine, and together we guided him as he filled me. I ached at the feeling as I pushed myself further down onto him, trembling with pleasure.

His hips found mine, steadying me as we stayed like that for a long moment, simply breathing, yearning, quivering.

No words were needed as his hands found my backside again and I began to move, rocking against him, placing my hands above his head for support. His eyes were full of desire, so heavy, so dark as he watched me, guided me, helped me.

I rocked against him, lifting slightly and impaling myself again, crying out in ecstasy. He lifted his head, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and sucking hard, biting down slightly and a shiver rippled through me.

Our movements were slow, steady. His lips found every inch of my skin, his caress following closely behind, his gentleness unimaginable. He did not press me, and only when he saw that I needed it did he take charge, sitting up and gathering me in his arms as he thrust into me.

The extra force that I had been yearning for, the quickness I needed to reach my peak was all he offered. Taking charge, he thrust into me with skill but also with patience, sweat gathering on his forehead. I brushed it away tenderly, running my hands through his honey hair as our lips met through quivering forms. Words were not needed between us tonight, our bodies were one. But more than that, they were equal.

I could feel myself getting close and wrapped my arms around him, holding him as close as I could. His gaze caught mine, and I held it as I finally shook with pleasure, tightening around him. He followed soon after, extending my orgasm with his movements as he lost control.

The second he had finished, he grabbed me in his arms, placing a long and tender kiss on my slick forehead as he gathered me, holding me close against him and we lay panting against the bearskin, the flames of the hearth dancing off of our glistening skin.

"I don't believe," he whispered softly against me a few moments later, "that I've ever truly made love before now."

I blinked, glancing sidelong at him, his expression unreadable.

"Is that what that was?" I breathed.

He paused. "The very name implies an affection I do not know if you possess. Only you can answer that question, Y/N. "His words tangled around me in more intricate knot than even our bodies were caught in, as I tried to decipher their meaning.

I'd never felt love. I'd never known someone in the way I knew him. So how in the world could I be certain of what I was feeling? And what was the implication of his words?

"You confuse me," I panted, not for the first time.

He chuckled, running his hand gently up the length of my back as I closed my eyes contently.

"Probably for the best, beautiful," he breathed, and the lull of sleep tugged at me in familiarity.


	17. Chapter 17

"Checkmate," Sam mumbled from behind his hand as he studied my reaction to his well calculated move.

I glanced at his knight and king as they trapped my final piece on the board and raised my eyebrows at him before letting out a small chuckle.

"I didn't see that coming."

He smiled, glancing around. I realized he was likely itching to get back to work after taking a quick break to indulge my boredom. 

"Thanks for playing, Sam," I smiled.

"My pleasure, honey," he held my gaze. "The master will be done with his business anytime, I'm sure," he assured gently.

I nodded. I understood the necessity for Dean's work, but found myself wishing once again I had another close companion, friends like I'd once known.

Sam's brows creased and he looked like he might say something else, but his chance fell away as the doors to the library were thrown open with incredible force and we both jumped.

I turned my head swiftly to see Dean hovering in the doorway looking tense and uncharacteristically worried.

He glanced at the two of us, taking in the room, frowning slightly. He politely smiled at Sam before turning his attention back to me.

"Y/N," he addressed me curtly. What did I do now?

"Sam, can we have the room please?" He asked urgently, his arms folded before him as he shifted on his feet.

Sam hesitated, studying Dean briefly; a silent exchange fell between them as it often did. Eventually he nodded and took his leave silently.

I pushed back from the table, standing cautiously.

Dean said nothing for a long moment. At last he stepped closer, his expression tormented.

"What is it?" I asked, moving closer to him in an effort to read his expression.

His jaw tightened, his voice strained when he finally spoke. I quickly realized then that it wasn't anger that filled him, but something else entirely. Something I was less used to seeing - pain.

He ran his hand through his hair in contemplation.

"I am utterly torn by what I have to tell you, and consequently what I must do," he admitted, reaching forward to cup my chin gently, but with an intensity that startled me.

"Dean," I spoke questioningly with a rising panic.

He closed his eyes, wincing as he took a long breath, compassion filling them when they met mine again. "Y/N, it's your father."

I tensed in immediate distress, my eyes widening as they searched his.

"He's sick."

My heart hammered in my chest, shooting pain with each beat.

"How can you be certain?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"I have a vast base of employees, both here and in town. One was specifically hired to watch over your father, to ensure his continued health. He reached me with the news just an hour ago."

I blinked, brows creasing. "But, why would you do that?"

Dean held my gaze for a long moment, radiating an unreadable, unwavering expression. He stroked the side of my face gently, pushing the hair off my shoulder behind half lidded eyes.

I blinked up at him from behind my lashes, his tone much softer when he spoke. "They say he's coughing up blood. What looked to be a common cold has grown more worrisome, and his fever has spiked," he paused. "A cousin of yours has been checking in on him and caring for him when she can. He has no one else."

Remorse etched itself deep into each crevice of his wrinkled brows as he spoke. "Elaine?" He offered.

I nodded. I didn't know her well, but was overwhelmed with gratitude for what she was doing. I knew she had a family of her own a few villages over, and wondered at the trek she made each day to check on him. I decided then that I owed her a great debt.

"She won't be able to keep that up much longer. She does not live close," I added sadly, my heart breaking at the news. 

How bad was he?

Dean gripped the sleeve of my dress tightly, fisting the material in his clenched hands before leaning his mouth next to my ear slowly.

"You must go to him."

I wondered if his words were a delusion, for surely he had not spoken them.

Blinking, I froze as he rested his head on my shoulder heavily before pulling away, his expression visibly torn.

"W-what?" I searched his gaze, my breath hitching at his words, at the prospect, and the instant reluctance I felt.

He took a deep breath, his expression visibly hardening as he gathered himself, the mask void of emotion returning. "I release you," he spoke with conviction. "You are no longer my _prisoner_."

A long moment passed between us as I merely gaped at him, unable to comprehend all that had taken place.

"I'm free?" I choked.

Dean nodded curtly, his eyes frowning. "Go to your father, Y/N."

"But-"

"Go," he added forcefully.

I couldn't think. Not about this, about us. My father needed me. I'd sacrificed my life for him. If I didn't go to him, all would have been in vain.

I was free. A truly exhilarated feeling filled me, but it was short lived as I glanced at the man in front of me.

There was so much to be said, but not a word would come.

I closed my mind and winced, turning abruptly. 

_You're free._

Slowly, and in a daze I headed for the door, cautiously aware of each step, the growing distance between us until I reached the handle and tugged on it with purpose.

A firm grip on my arm turned me suddenly, pushing me against the wall violently. I gasped, eyeing Dean with confusion and suspicion.

He was nearly panting, his fists balled as he brought them to his face and lowered them again, his eyes darting frantically as he gazed at me, devouring my body.

He leaned forward, entrapping me against the wall, brushing my hair back as he hovered above me. He winced, clearly holding himself back. Dean gripped my waist so tightly it was painful.

"Be careful," he said at last, his voice breaking, before placing a chaste kiss on my lips and pushing himself back with obvious effort.

His last look to me was fleeting and full of anguish as he stormed away from me with such determination I would have thought he was repulsed by me, if I hadn't known the opposite to be true.

In the end it was him that walked away, him that put the distance between us, storming from the room and leaving me in a complete state of disarray.

As I barreled through the woods on Philippe's back trying to shield my face from the wind, I regretted not having a chance to say goodbye to Sam, Christine, Mrs. Macleod, and so many others that had become true friends. 

Would I ever see them again?

The thought pained me more than I cared to admit.

I rode for hours, until my back and legs started to ache and the darkness started to chill me more than the whipping winds. But I persisted, unwilling to stop as I remembered my last encounter in the woods.

I could think of little else but how cold I was, and for that I was grateful.

As I galloped through the village square with haste towards our home, I was thankful for the darkness and the mostly abandoned streets. I hadn't seen most of these people in months, in such a small town there was no time for inquiries or distractions.

Get to him.

I barely remembered tying Phillip to a tree out front before flinging myself inside the cottage that once felt like home.

I noticed quickly that the chill that filled me did not dissipate upon entering and glanced sidelong at a dimming and nearly burnt out fire before a deep cough caught my attention.

My father was barely recognizable in the vague candle light, and even less so for the weight he'd lost. I suppressed a gasp, collecting myself before making my way to his side quickly.

"Father," I breathed, gripping his frigid hand in mine tightly.

He opened his eyes meekly. 

"Y/N," his words were little more than a breath.

I blinked hard, standing abruptly and tearing my hand from his with great strength. I quickly rebuilt the fire until it was blaring warmth and light. With haste, I bustled around the room grabbing more blankets and pillows and a glass of water in hopes of returning some color to his pale figure.

"How?" He rasped after a long drink, blinking at me with no more energy than he'd had moments before.

"He let me go," I answered distracted, my gaze darting to the kitchen area.

"When was the last time you ate, Father?"

He shook his head. "Not hungry," he managed, still staring at me in awe.

I furrowed my brows, standing quickly to look around for any food he might have. I found a few carrots and pasta that had kept and started to work on a weak soup.

I glanced back over at my father as I dug out the necessary ingredients and utensils and noted he was back in a deep slumber.

My heart raced as I watched his labored breathing, the effort each breath took, and I realized for the first time that this might now be something I can fix. I found my way back to him, and it might not even matter.

The thought of losing my father after finally getting him back brought me tremendous pain. Grimacing at the mere thought, I poured a small bowl of soup and carried it to his bedside, forcing him to wake and tipped it back for him to sip at. He managed about half, before pushing it away with tired eyes. I persisted in vain, and soon he was asleep again.

I set the bowl down, and studied him as he rested, lighting another candle before taking a seat beside him. He looked so utterly drained, and I wondered at my part in it. How could I have ever believed he could move on from what I'd done?

I sighed, glancing around the house. It was in complete disarray, and even the familiar quilt I knew my mother had knitted which had once brought me comfort did nothing for me now. I didn't belong here any longer.

With one last futile glance in my father's direction and my internal decision to hunt down the village doctor in the morning, I let myself realize for the first time in the hours since my return home how utterly exhausted I was.

I grabbed the quilt, and resumed my place next to my father, resting my head in my hands. After a while, I allowed myself to drift off to a light uncomfortable sleep, but never did I let my thoughts wander beyond the man before me.

If I look back, I am lost.


	18. Chapter 18

The streets of the village were quiet in the early morning before the shops started to open and its occupants began roaming the streets in search of food or more likely, gossip. My father had never much liked doctors, a fact I knew paired well with his stubborn nature, and I hoped to be back with one before he even woke.

I moved with purpose, glancing cautiously around me. The morning was too quiet, and unease surrounded me as I continued through the empty streets. The source soon made itself evident to my distain.

"Am I actually seeing this?" A voice drifted around me, amused, with an undertone that made me cringe with recognition.

"Castiel," I muttered as I turned swiftly, taking in the site of him half covered in mud evidently heading back from an early morning hunt.

His smirk was endless, his steps confident as he inched forward.

"What on earth are you doing back is this godforsaken town?" He mused. "There's no way in hell Dean let you out of his grasps" Castiel accused, eyeing me with the same hunger I remembered, the kind that left my blood cold.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't have time for you. My father is sick." I turned, marching away from him and putting as much distance between us as I could. My heart raced, suddenly hating how alone we were in this moment, but I didn't have time for fear, or for Castiel. I couldn't afford to let him get in my way.

I heard him trail slowly after me for a heartbeat, before stopping with a chuckle. "I'm sure I'll see you around, darling. Y/N, was it?"

I picked up the pace, moving with an even more fervent determination towards my destination.

I hovered anxiously as I watched the doctor's examination of my father who could barely stay awake long enough to comprehend what was going on and meekly protest. He was a younger man that I would have expected, certainly younger than the previous town doctor, but the assertiveness of his movements left no question in my mind that he was very qualified.

"How long has he been like this?" He asked, glancing up at me with an unreadable expression while holding something to my father's chest.

"I-I don't know," I whispered, guilt wracking my entire body.

The doctor's eyes turned inquisitive, but not judgmental. Judgmental I could not handle right now.

"Y/N," he said after a few more minutes. "Your father's heart is very weak." His brows creased deeply, and my heart quickened. "The fever has taken hold of him," he paused, brows furrowing in deep thought. "Seeing as neither of us has been present during this time, I cannot tell you exactly the source of this." His words were not accusing but frustrated. "Could have been an infection, exposure, or a cold gone very wrong," he glanced back down at my father. "There is nothing I can do for him," he added slowly. "But I do have to tell you I don't think he is going to recover from this, Miss."

He began collecting his tools slowly, readjusting my father's shirt with gentle hands before meeting my gaze.

I blinked at him, taking a moment to comprehend the underlying meaning in his words.

"You mean... he could die from this?" I asked at last, holding his steady gaze.

"He almost certainly will. It is unlikely he will regain his strength at this point," he answered, sympathy etched in his features. "I'm sorry," he added as an afterthought, something in the way he said it made me understand how many times he'd had to and how familiar he was with this type of pain.

"B-but," I breathed, glancing from him to my father frantically before letting an uneven breath out.

"How long?" I asked finally, truthfully dreading the answer. My eyes traced the bags under my father's, the way he frowned in his sleep, his rigid posture.

"That, Y/N, is mostly up to your father, and of course our Lord Father. It could be a few weeks, a few days, or even hours. At this rate, with his refusal to eat or drink, it won't be long."

I blinked hard, suppressing the familiar warmth threatening my strong façade. If the dam broke, that would be it. I blinked, trying to understand how this could have all happened so quickly, how my life was in the midst of changing irrevocably, again.

"I-Is he in pain?"

"A little. Not much. He seems to be sleeping through most everything. With the fever, it'll be like falling into a cold sleep."

"He's so tired," I whispered, unable to tear my eyes from my father's frail form.

"He is." The doctor nodded.

"I should've been here," I breathed, as I felt the accustomed wetness on my cheeks.

He said nothing, but I could feel his sidelong glance.

"There's nothing else you can do? Nothing?" I asked desperately.

He shook his head regretfully, touching my shoulder softly.

"You can't blame yourself. He's quite old, Miss. These things happen. It is sadly the way of life."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less." I was shocked by my tone, the bitterness in it, and regretted lashing out at the person who was trying to help.

"If there's nothing else," he spoke dismissively after a few moments, bowing his head and heading for the door.

"N-no," I whispered. "Thank you," I added as a distraught afterthought, one that echoed throughout the room long after the door had been shut tightly in his wake.

As I sat up with my father that night, watching him shiver and cough and drift in and out of a heavy slumber, I wondered at how something could possibly be so mentally and physically exhausting all at once. I pulled a blanket closer and realized with some apprehension, that I missed Dean's presence in moments like this, moments when I felt so completely alone. I'd had friends here once, but hadn't the time to visit them or let them know of my arrival. Regardless, I was hardly the same person they had once known. They weren't my friends, but the friends of a woman I barely recognized any longer.

The night was the longest I can remember living through, including the ones I'd considered hell during my stay with Dean. It was made so because the pain I was surrounded in was not my own. Far worse, it was the pain of the man who had loved me unconditionally his whole life, and the only family I truly had left.

I do not know what I had expected once I had accepted the fact that my father was leaving me. Part of me wanted those final words with him, a tender moment I could grasp on to for the rest of my life-part of me felt I had a right to it. But I realized long ago that life isn't a story and the things we expect are almost never the way our lives unfold.

He barely woke long enough to look at me, cold sweat covering his entire body. Sometimes I would offer a small bit of water, but mostly the moments were fleeting as he woke up less and less often, his breathing becoming shallower by the minute.

At some point, when he stopped waking, the tears began. I allowed them, as my fear of scaring or upsetting him had gone. I clutched his hand, having heard this small comfort was significant in helping a loved one pass in peace, pushing his hair from his face as I whispered my love for him, unable to make myself fully understand the reality of what was taking place, as hard as I tried.

The sun had barely begun to rise outside the window when my father took his last shallow breath.

The funeral was small. Most of the town had thought my father slightly mad for the majority of his life, but many had respected him enough to show up. Standing alone as the priest said a few kind words and read from the bible was yet another reminder of what lay ahead for me, what kind of future I had in this small town-one where I felt out of place and entirely alone.

  
The one face I truly recognized as it wondered up to the service while it drew to a close was the last one I wanted to see. Anger consumed me at the thought of him having the audacity to even show up. My eyes met his, and there was familiar deviousness behind his mask of compassion.

When the service ended, I said my final goodbyes to my father, unable to allow myself to fully grieve or leave him behind because all I could concentrate on was Castiel's prying gaze as he hovered behind the rest of the group from a distance, arms crossed behind his back. He seemed to be waiting for me, and my anger grew as I blinked back and wiped away the tears I had allowed to pass. I couldn't believe he had robbed me of this solitude, this right to lay my father to rest.

I made my way over to him with purpose. In that moment, Castiel did not terrify me the way he often did. The rage inside of me made him nothing but small in my eyes. "Castiel," I seethed. "Can I help you?" I asked as calmly as I could manage.

He studied me for a long moment, gazing down at me with an unreadable expression. "So sorry for your loss, Y/N."

"Spare me," I countered, glancing around as the last of the patrons made their way out of sight.

"It's a small town, Y/N. There hasn't been a funeral since I was of age I haven't attended. Don't flatter yourself so," he mused, his tone amused, but his gaze haughty and rather contradictory.

"Leave me be." My voice was weak as I moved past him with a tired and utterly defeated stride. I'd simply had enough for one day.

"Don't you want some company?" he called.

"I do not care to experience any more of your company," I countered, turning from him with purpose.

He laughed and murmured, "I'm visiting the castle tonight. It would be _fuuuun_." 

After the burial, I slept for a very long time in my childhood bed. That's all it felt like now. When I woke less weary but equally as drained it was late in the evening, I had little ambition to do much other than eat a few pieces of bread and curl in front of the fireplace. I realized I had a lot to think about and a lot to sort through.

Could I live my life like this, a woman alone in this house? It wouldn't pass for long. People would talk. I'd have to marry eventually or think of something else. I would have to provide for myself somehow. The useless inventions my father left around the house would do me as much good now as they ever had.

I sighed heavily, an immense weight in my shoulders as I curled into a blanket, resting my head on my knees as I watched the fire dance in front of me. I wondered what Mrs. Macleod or Sam would say to me if they could, what comfort they would try to offer me. I wondered if Dean would even care to see me grieve, or if he was so wrapped in the immense pain of his life and his past that it was too hard for him to see the hurt in the lives of others. I'd often wondered this about him.

I questioned where I was truly better off, where I was truly safer. The tender moments of the last few weeks crept back into my thoughts, a stroke of his hand as he brushed my cheek, the way he held me tightly against him at night when he knew my sleep was restless with unsettling dreams, the way he kissed my forehead gently that made me wonder if maybe he could ever love, if he could ever love me, if in some way he had, if in some way I had.

Unconventional was not a word that typically sprung to mind when thinking of love, but our relationship had been nothing less. These moments would never erase the torment I'd experienced at his hands, but they plagued me nonetheless, ruthless in their encroachment of my hopeless mental state.

I wondered if these experiences could even be compared, if the men who had committed each act were one in the same. I pondered the depths of the mystery of his heart and his mind. I marveled at him, barely spending the day to think of my father, and in a way I disgusted myself because I was unable to control any of it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much POVs......I knoooooooooow... ;D But, it's the penultimate of the series, so why not :p

_**** _

_**Dean's POV** _

I couldn't remember where I'd found the stick I was aimlessly stabbing the floor with, or the Goddamned dog that sat whining and wagging its tale at my feet, and chewing on something I really hoped wasn't my shoe. 

The blasted beast.

I remembered the whiskey well. I was still remembering it quite well as I stared aimlessly every once and a while at the family photo hanging above the desk in my study. I refilled my glass, taking a long sip, enjoying the slow burn as it slipped down my throat, a familiar comfort.

"Beast!" I yelled. That's what I'd been calling him anyways. My internal mutterings had made their way out after all.

It was my shoe he'd been chewing on.

The dog whimpered and dropped the shoe, panting at me expectantly. I then tried to recall the name of the village I'd found the mutt in before he started following me around. That had been after she'd left; a few hours, or days ago now, time ran together in a flow of whiskey and agony. The taverns had mixed together, the evenings and the wenches even more so.

Something in my chest clenched.

I glanced over my glass at the bookshelf that lay collapsed across the floor. Books were strewn across every surface of the room. My gaze followed the trail to the papers tossed from desk to floor, and then to the shattered hole in the window that was letting in a slight gust. I shook my head in a daze, emptying my glass and grabbing the bottle. The bottle was a much more effective method, I decided, standing too fast. I gripped the back of the closest chair to steady myself.

Composing myself, I wandered over to my desk, picking the revolver up that I'd been toying with for the better part of the day. I spun it in my hands carelessly, eyeing it with a longer glance than I knew was normal.

"Rowena!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, spinning purposefully towards the door as I set the gun down reluctantly.

Impatience gnawed at me.

"Ro-!"

"Yes, _Winchester_ ," she called. I could hear her scurrying my way.

"Food for the beast!" I called grandly, pointing to the mutt that had now taken a liking to biting one of the footstools in the corner. I never liked that footstool.

"I fed him this morning," she huffed, coming to a halt and eyeing the dog with both pity and annoyance. I liked the fact that the mutt seemed an annoyance to most everyone in the castle. It brought me a strange pleasure.

"Then why, Mrs. Potts, is it eating the furniture?"

She fit me with a look that made me feel like a child. Her brows creased as her gaze found the bottle in my hand. "That's what wild untrained dogs do."

Without thinking, I picked the dog up, stroking his head absentmindedly. It wasn't a large dog but it wasn't exactly a small one, grey and mangy looking, but far too happy for my liking. I patted its head and handed the dirty thing to Mrs. Potts.

She grimaced but took it, holding it lovingly, yet hesitantly and gazing at me with something too stern to be annoyance.

I blinked rapidly trying to clear my vision.

"Clean it. Feed it," I waved her away dismissively, turning without a second thought. The door closed quietly behind me.

Too bright. I moved towards the window, pulling the blinds shut tightly on the setting sun. A few hours later the bottle was finished, but it was swiftly replaced.

I kicked some of the books to the side as I moved across the room to shut the doors of my study tightly, turning on the wretched things again.

Books.

Stories.

They reminded me so much of-

_Romance novels...and stories of adventure have always captivated me._

Her voice echoed throughout my foggy thoughts. I winced.

Picking up an armful in a flurry, I tossed them in the flames of the dying fire. I leaned against the mantle, panting as I watched the pages burn. I tugged my hair back forcefully, the slight pain of the motion a welcomed distraction.

**_Y/N's POV_ **

  
I woke up panting. I had a nightmare and it didn't end well. There was a fight between Dean and Castiel.

I'm visiting the castle tonight. It would be fuuuun.

It was a hint. Castiel'd be attacking them.

Not allowing myself to think, I brushed the back of my hand against my face and tugged my mess of curls back, reaching for my traveling cloak and rushed outside to ready Philippe.

I was their only hope at some kind of warning. If I didn't make it in time, if I couldn't do something, I did not know if the castle would survive the brutality and the force of Castiel and his men. The force of his anger and jealousy - his greed and his pride.

I acted on the only forces I had left, love and fear, seeking energy in adrenaline as I readied Philippe quickly and dashed into the darkness. The sting of the cool wind on my cheeks was barely noticeable against the ice cold terror creeping its way down my spine.

_**Dean's POV** _

A familiar ache within my head welcomed me when I came around again. I winced against the low and dying embers of the hearth, which brought too much light. I'd woken to this feeling for what felt like an eternity.

Realizing I was thinking far too much and far too clearly, I searched the floor for the nearest bottle. The _numbness_ \- that was what I needed, what made it all bearable.

I'd ruined everything, and for my mistakes and my sins I would pay. I would always pay. As if the knowledge that I'd never see her again wasn't torment enough, as if-

"Dean," A soft voice called, rapping lightly on the doors I had locked and bolted shut, though I couldn't really seem to recollect when I had done it.

It was _Sam_. The last voice I needed to hear right now - the voice of _conscience_.

"Could I have a word?" He asked gently, trying the handle that would not budge.

"Leave me be, Sam."

"You cannot survive on whiskey and gin and whatever else you've got in there forever," he said simply.

"I can try," I mumbled, taking a very long sip of something amber colored, putting a significant dent in the bottle as I rolled my head sideways, tracing the dancing flames. I'd never found their movement so amusing or so enthralling. I felt like I could stare at their inferno for hours and never tire of it, never the same flame twice.

It was when Rowena came by a few hours later and tried for an hour to no avail to open the door that I decided it would need reinforcements. Strong reinforcements. To keep it all out. To keep it all in. To-

"Bookshelves," I muttered to myself. Those would do.

They were empty now anyways, the majority of what lay in the study consumed by the flames, burning away the memories...burning away the words. Burning away _her_.

_"What are you doing here," I whispered furiously in her ear, cornering her against the shelf with what I knew to be too much force, screaming at her with what I knew was too much rage, yet could not contain._

_"N-Nothing-I," she had whimpered fearfully as I pressed her harder against the shelf, losing my temper completely, knowing I was about to take everything too far the way I always did._

I blinked harshly, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it. I stood swiftly and began tearing apart the shelves, kicking and smashing the wood apart. The chair, yes, the chair would help.

These would make fine barricades. I began shoving a long piece up against the door.

_**Sam's POV** _

Her silhouette against the window, all soft shadows and slight curves had me smiling before I reached her, slipping an arm around her waist as I rested my head on her shoulder, both of us gazing out to the dark courtyard. There was a clear view of the forest beyond, the lake and even the edge of the nearest building from this height in the castle. At some point it had begun to rain heavily, lightning illuminating the mountains in the distance.a

"Long day?" I breathed against her neck, taking comfort in her familiar smell.

Christine smiled, I could feel it the relaxation of her body, hear it in her tone. "Better now," she whispered, leaning her head back against my shoulder.

I sighed thinking she belonged nowhere else but here.

"Are you worried for him?" She asked, turning to face me but I would not drop my arms which encased her.

I frowned.

"Sam, of course you worry for him, like you would worry for your own son," she sighed, touching my cheek gently. I could feel her brush the slight stubble there, her fingers playing at the lines of my jaw. I sighed, relaxing against her touch.

I brushed the hair back off her shoulder. "He will be fine. He is having a fit and he will come through it," my voice was assertive but my heart was not in it. Dean had his tantrums where he acted like a spoiled brat of a child. He was after all still a prince that had never really grown up in so many ways, yet had been forced to mature so quickly. This seemed a mixture of self-indulgence and something more. Obviously something more. The loss of Y/N was felt all over the castle, but never more than with Dean and the personal prison he'd made for himself.

"He is hurt."

"We are all hurt. We've all known pain and grief. We've all known loss," I saw her wince and closed my mouth, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

"I've been thinking about something," I said casually against her ear in an attempt to brighten her, tracing the skin of her arm lightly with my fingers. "About us," I clarified.

She smiled softly, meeting my eyes. "Yes?"

"About joining our lives," I continued softly. "I don't want to live the remainder of mine without you in it."

Christine blinked up at me. "But the master, would he allow something like that? For us to-"

She broke off, sensing the tension in my body as a flicker of light in the darkness behind her caught my attention. I creased my eyes, not as good as they used to be, and stepped gently around her to peer into the distance. Something was coming towards the castle. Flames? It was so far in the distance that I couldn't tell.

Christine gasped beside me, my heart dropping slightly.

"What is that?" She whispered, gripping me tightly as she stepped forward.

My hand found hers. "It looks like an army."

**_Dean's POV_ **

" _You must go to him." The words tasted like acid on my tongue._

_"W-what?" Shock and confusion played on her face. Why would it not. She'd never believed me capable of such an act. I was her captor after all. My expression hardened._

_"I release you," the words tumbled out against my will. "You are no longer my prisoner."_

_I'd never felt such pain, such torment. But it was right._

_"I'm free?"_

_"Go to your father, Y/N."_

_"But-"_

_"Go," I screamed through the pain._

I woke panting to the sensation of something warm against my face.

"Blasted beast," I cursed, pushing away the dog which was licking me softly and staring at me expectantly.

Why had it seemed a good idea to make a door for him? Had I been _that_ lonely?

Beast sat down quietly and obediently beside me on the floor, glancing at me patiently. I absentmindedly reached out to pat his head, stroking him as I blinked against the dimly lit room which was coming into focus again. I recognized the fact that I was sobering, and though the bottle held the same appeal, I held off, placing one arm on my knee and gazing into the darkness.

_"I don't want to hurt you anymore."_

_"Then don't."_

I blinked, pressing my thumb and forefinger to my eyes. She haunted me, even now, even here. I could sense her still, the sweetness of her skin, the softness of her hair. My heart ached.

It's your fault, _Dean_.

I deserved this. Atonement for what I'd done to her, for what she would never recover from. But what had I done to myself in the process? How had I let myself feel so catastrophically for her? I gripped a paper weight from the floor next to me and tossed it with all of my strength across the room. It smashed a deep hole in the wall.

"Dean," A familiar voice called from the door, knocking with purpose.

"Sam, go away," I hollered, not drunk enough for this. I reached for the bottle only half noticing he had called me by my name, a rarity.

"Open the door," his voice was stern.

I tugged at the collar of my haphazardly buttoned shirt, undoing it further, realizing I was hot. "Piss off," I called again, taking a drink.

"Dean," he paused. "The castle is under attack," he said simply, a tired panic in his tone.

I blinked, trying to comprehend his words before standing with some effort and bolting for the window. I gazed down, seeing the forest just beyond the gate alight with torches and shadowy figures. There seemed to be a mob of them moving for the castle.

I stared wide eyed as they marched closer, the light of the castle illuminating the clear leader at the front, clad in a bright red jacket and hunting boots. I would recognize his formidable form anywhere.

_Castiel._

  
My heart fell. Something about the half drunken state I was in made the situation both easier and harder to process. His force was large, and though I did not know the root of his motivations, I could guess at least one of them. At least she was not here to be harmed. She would be safe.

  
The sheer size of his followers was daunting, and as I took another long sip of liquor, the burn a welcomed comfort. I realized what needed to be done.

The pain could end here.

I thought of those around me that had served me loyally, of Castiel hovering on the other side of the wall. I'd loved them all in a way. They'd been all the family I had known.

"Flee out the back," I hollered with the strength I had left, my eyes following the mob towards the doors of the castle. "The old service tunnels. You remember?"

"Dean?"

"Take Christine. Get everyone out, and let them come".

My own voice was hollow in my ears.

**_Y/N's POV_ **

I'm too late!

By the time I had reached the outskirts of the grounds, Castiel and his men were at the doors of the castle, pounding vigorously against them. I was vaguely aware of the fact that it had begun to pour rain on my journey and that I was now soaked head to toe, hair matted against my face.

My heart clenched in fear. I jumped from Philippe, tying him to a nearby tree out of sight.

"Quiet, Phillippe," I whispered, petting him gently as a thanks for his hard work. I kissed him lightly on the forehead before making my way through the trees and artfully around the castle.

There had to be other ways to get in, other doors and passage ways, even tunnels in a building this old. Despite my exhaustion, I had to get to them-to him. I was familiar enough with the castle now that there had to be something I could do. I had that much of an advantage at least.

My cloak was dark and I pulled it against me, staying low as I dashed for the castle, and as far out of sight as I could. It was large enough that there were numerous ways to hide and keep my distance.

I traced the line of the back of the building until I found what I knew to be the entrance to the kitchen. I tugged on the door. It was bolted shut. I blinked around rapidly but did not seem to have been detected or followed.

I sprang forward quicker, hearing the splintering of wood from across the grounds and knowing my time was short. At last I found another door, this was narrower and to my delight unlocked. I tugged at it harshly, throwing myself into an incredibly dark and musty room, one I was not familiar with. Perhaps it was a pantry or a storage area; I didn't care to even find out as I hurled my way through it as quietly as I could and into the hallway.

I recognized the area I had stumbled upon, the familiar warm scene of fire wood and must. I bit my lip, pulling my hood down and glancing around trying to think of the most strategic place to go first. The floor seemed deserted.

The pounding on the front door echoed throughout the entirety of the building until at last there was a crash and a splinter that made my heart shatter.

I sprinted down the hall instinctively towards the West Wing as I felt the roar in the lower level of the castle in my bones.

"Take whatever booty you can find," Castiel's sinister voice called throughout. "The beast is mine," Castiel's cold words echoed the stone walls, following me as I raced from them.

An iron grip caught my arm, causing me to fumble as it yanked me towards it. Sam's astonished and panicked gaze caught mine.

"Y/N!" His tone was remorseful.

"Where is he?"

"He's locked himself in his study," he answered quickly, glancing feverishly down the hall. It was then that I realized he held a wooden club, and some type of dagger or small sword at his waist.

"He won't come out. You have to leave. They're coming. Please, Y/N," his eyes narrowed with pain.

"Where are the others?"

"I sent them all away. They've fled and they will be safe. I know I cannot defend the castle alone but I couldn't leave him. I was on my way to see if I could break the door down."

"Sam," I whispered painfully, my voice pleading. My heart ached.

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. He nodded stiffly. "If anyone can get through to him, it's you," he said with determination. "There still may be time to get away, for all of us if we hurry."

"He won't leave his home like this; he won't give it up..."

Sam grabbed my arm fiercely and began pulling me down the corridor at a run. "I'll throw him over my shoulder if I have to. We're no match," he called. Sweat made his shirt cling to him as he propelled me forward. My hair flung in my face and I pushed it back fiercely.

We came to a halt in front of the large double doors of the study and I banged on them with everything I had, panting hard. No answer.

Sam was staring at me with such intensity that I could feel it though I faced away from him.

I turned abruptly. "Is it that hard to believe I came for him... for you? To try and warn you of the danger you are all in?" I panted in what was almost fury.

He blinked. "No," he said simply. "I'm not surprised to see you at all." I rapped on the doors once more.

I could hear the echo of footsteps filling the halls, the floors below us, and the angry cries. I wondered when they would become fed up with searching and set the place on fire. The crash of furniture in the distance stirred me away from my thoughts.

I rapped on the door again. "Dean!" I screamed.

There was a long silence, my heart hammering in my ears. I slammed my whole body against the door, feeling the ache in my bones from the force.

"Dean, open the door, now!" I screamed. "You're not just killing yourself. You're killing all of us right now. You're killing me and you're killing Sam, because we are not leaving you."

There was a quiet moment, and then the sudden sound of wood and furniture being moved and my heart leapt.

The echoes in the hallway grew louder and I knew it wouldn't be long until Castiel's men filled the castle.

I could hear the sound of wood cracking and breaking, the doors began to rattle and suddenly a dog was at my feat, yapping and jumping at me. I blinked.

"What on earth?"

"Dean's newest amusement. Cute. Smells kind of bad," Sam offered.

I glanced down to see that there was a doggy door carved in the barricade Deans had made and suppressed a laugh, my mouth hanging open. I then noticed that the frame of the door was rattling. There was a grunt, and it flew open.

In the dimly lit doorway stood Dean, panting slightly, sweat gleaming on his collar bone, completely disheveled and completely dumbfounded. My eyes traced the lines of his jaw to where his shirt hung open, dirty and wrinkled, his sleeves rolled at the cuffs. His hair was a mess of matted tangles, the bags under his eyes dark and deep. His pores reeked with the stench of alcohol. He looked like complete _Hell_.

His gaze found mine and held it for a long moment. The panic that surrounded us calmed as time slowed. A million emotions played on his face, agony most prominent.

" _Y/N_ ," he breathed, gripping the doorway to steady himself, his voice cracking. He stepped forward hesitantly, his face twisted in a mask of pain and confusion. "You came back."

"Dean, we must go. Now!" Sam asserted from over my shoulder, breaking the fierceness of our eye contact.

Dean's gaze suddenly darted down the hallway towards the impending mob which had reached the West Wing and a look of clarity hit him. The daze he had been in ended suddenly and he straightened.

"We can't just let them-"

"There is nothing else to do, no option any longer."

"We fight them."

"We run," I said gently, trying to get him to see reason. "We run or we die."

The group grew closer and Dean shoved us into a room further down the hall and out of sight before we were spotted. It seemed to be a spare bedroom. "We are out of time."

"You've been out of time for a while now," said a dark voice as it stepped out of the shadows. "Touching reunion."

Castiel drew his blade and Dean shoved me behind him instinctively as Sam handed him his own blade. I could hear the storm of feet as men moved about the halls outside the room, breaking whatever was in their path and calling out in rage.

Sam bolted the door and someone threw themselves against it from the other side. I gasped, looking around for anything to help defend myself with, defend all of us with.

"I'm still trying to decide whether to burn the place down or keep it for myself," Castiel mused, inching forward with a dark chuckle. "Thoughts? We certainly are making a mess, perhaps it's not worth saving."

Dean glared at him, stiffening.

"Y/N," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off of Castiel. "Leave. I will find you later," his orders were simple and direct, as to give nothing of my whereabouts to Castiel. I knew it didn't matter where I hid, if it was in the building, the forest or a town away,

_he would find me._

"I'm not leaving you here to die!"

"No one is dying," his tone was reassuring. "Except maybe _him_."

Sam threw his weight against the door as someone tried the latch again.

Castiel chuckled. "Stay if you wish, Y/N. You're in no danger from me. I don't think you're worth fuck anyways."

I paled, gripping the post of the bed in the room to hold myself up. Unable to control my anger.

Dean's voice shook as it finally came a few moments later. "Y/N," he said calmly, but with an icy malice. "I cannot kill this bastard if I am worried about your life. Run. Now!"

"But-"

"Sam, make sure she gets out of the castle safely. This is not a request!"

Barely a moment passed before Dean lunged forward, striking Castiel hard across the face and catching him by surprise. Castiel retaliated, landing a hit against Dean before gripping his blade, pushing it forward and striking at him. Dean lunged expertly out of the way. It was then that I realized how equally matched they were in skill, a blur of fists and knives.

A strong grip on my shoulder made me turn. "Y/N," Sam urged, tugging me towards the door.

"I can't-"

Sam winced, shaking his head. "Y/N, he is right! You must leave! I will drag you if I have to. I'm sorry, but I will," his eyes were stern. I saw in them his own concern for my safety and softened, allowing him to pull me behind him as he threw the door open.

I glanced behind me as Sam pulled me into the hallway where only a few men remained, but the room was a blur of swift motions and darkness. The soft grunts of battle followed me down the hall as Sam slashed at and pushed unskilled fighters out of the way.

We sprinted for a few moments until we were clear of imminent danger, Sam only having to stop once to put a knife in someone's back. I marveled at his own skill, an unexpected fierceness coming from him that I knew nothing of.

Sam hurled us down a flight of stairs, and another until we reached a small door similar to the one I had entered in. He pressed me against the wall, narrowing in on me as we both panted.

"Listen carefully, Y/N," his tone was all business, his eyes panicked. "I have to go back and help. Christine and the others have gone to the next town. There is an inn where they will wait for the night, if you hurry you may be able to catch them before-"

I shook my head. "I know where to go." That town, or another was not where he would look for me, and I knew instinctively where he would. I reached for the door knob.

He nodded, his eyes taking me in.

"Be careful, Sam," I choked, suddenly a wreck of emotion, captivated by both gratitude and fear. "Help Dean!"

He gripped my shoulder. "Everything will be okay." Sam leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead, a paternal gesture of love that broke my heart. "Go, Y/N!" he ordered, backing from me slowly as he began his assent up the stairs.

I ran. Clear across the dark grounds. They seemed quiet, though I did not trust them. I trusted nothing anymore. At some point the rain began to slow and come to a stop, a turn of events I was truly grateful for as I flung my wet curls from my face.

The path was a familiar one, out the gates and into the familiarity of the nearby forest. I could hear the water as I grew closer, the river coming into view to my relief. I glanced back, unable to see the castle and hoping this meant that I was out of sight as well.

The moonlight danced across the quiet ripples of the water, the night cool, but I could feel the approaching spring in it.

I wandered further down, until I found the rock where Dean and I had once shared an afternoon. The memory brought me warmth as I curled up onto the large stone, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my head on my knees and letting out a deep breath.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing but wait.


	20. Chapter 20

I watched the sun rise that morning, studying the way the rays began to glimmer off the water as it rose higher in the sky. I glanced back towards the castle almost obsessively every few minutes, my stomach in knots. Half of me was expecting to turn and see it burning to the ground, the other half of me anticipated a dark and daunting figure in the distance. Mostly, I was too terrified that Dean and Sam would not be leaving the castle alive, and tried not to stop my mind from wandering to such dark places. But I'd been waiting a very long time and was beginning to assume the worst.

When I finally did hear the slow shuffle of soft footprints in the woods behind me, I braced myself for the cold possessive touch of Castiel.

The figure stilled but I could not bear to turn as I stiffened against the rock, pulling my knees closer.

"I'd hoped I'd find you here," the tone of his soft and tired voice wrapped me with a comfort I'd never imagined or expected to find in him.

Every inch of my body relaxed as I turned, unable to contain my relief, and above all my joy. True joy at seeing him alive and well, and here. Here for me.

I stood, throwing myself at him without any thought. "You're alive. You're well," I breathed. I felt him stiffen beneath me and let out a small groan, but wrapped me in his arms nonetheless, his chin finding the top of my head as I folded into him.

I felt him grasp my head tightly, fisting my hair and breathing me in. I sighed, pulling away to take him in.

I cupped his cheek gently as I gazed at him. He looked like hell. His shirt was torn, he was cut and bruised-more beast than man-but from what I could see his injuries were superficial aside from a foul looking gash on his arm. My relief grew as I met his tired eyes.

"I'm fine, Y/N," his eyes never left me, wandering my form, devouring every inch of me. It was as if he was expecting me to disappear at any moment.

"What took you so long?" I asked, worried. I glanced around instinctively.

Dean sighed, looking completely exhausted. "Sam was hurt. I had to attend to him and get help. I sent for the staff to return. Christine and Rowena have tended to him and I have been assured that he will be fine," his expression turned haunted. "I then had to take care of a few things within the castle that I did not wish to leave in my home longer than absolutely necessary," his tone was _grave_. "I felt it best not to come for you until then."

I remembered the size of Castiel's following and the flourish of men within the castle and wondered how on earth he had been victorious. 

"How did you do it?" My voice was a mixture of awe and fear.

"Long story, love. I'm sure Sam would be happy to fill you in on the details of it tomorrow if you would like to come inside and clean up and rest. I remember little," he paused, his expression pained. "After that you can be on your way. No one will try to stop you," he paused, his hand brushing my cheek as his eyes held mine, crinkled at the edges with intent and concern. "You're my guest."

I saddened though I did not know why. "I think we have much to talk about."

He nodded, slipping his arm around and setting it on my back protectively as he led us to the castle, yet I found that I was the one steadying him.

I tried to avoid examining the destruction within the castle too much as I helped Dean up to his room. I noticed that some of it had already been cleared away and I was spared from the sight of any bodies, though blood was left in their wake. It was then that I realized what the things were he had to take care of before I stepped inside, even before he was truly sure I'd ever be coming back here again. Even when he was convinced I wouldn't be.

The mutt that Dean had seemingly adopted followed us down the hallway, barking with too much enthusiasm, but I smiled softly at the realization that he was okay before shutting the door on him as I helped Dean to his room, giving us some privacy. The mutt whined once outside the door before taking off down the hall at a sprint. I wished I had his energy.

"Beast," Dean mumbled softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he glanced towards the door and I helped him sit on the bed.

He sat carefully, wincing slightly and I moved to the washroom to grab a bowl of hot water and a towel.

When I returned he was watching me carefully, staring at me with such intensity as I rung the cloth of water that it made me uncomfortable and self-conscious at the same time.

I tried to ignore his gaze as I reached up, wiping the blood and dirt from his face and hair before moving to his neck.

"Stop staring."

"I can't," he said simply. I met his gaze, steady and full of so much emotion I had to glance away. The ruggedness of his appearance from the battle somehow made him even more handsome but so did the way he looked at me, no anger or possessiveness in his gaze, just a mixture of fear and awe and adoration, and a strange sadness that I'd never quite seen before.

I reached for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I began working the buttons of his shirt and he let me.

I helped him out of the remainder of his clothing and into the tub, where I sat beside him and ran the soap through his hair, rubbing off the dirt and blood and examining a few very deep and dark bruises on his torso. He hissed as I slid a cloth across one and I winced.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He lifted one of his hands he'd been bracing himself against the tub with and cupped the side of my face, running a hand through my curls slowly.

"You look exhausted," he whispered.

"No more than anyone else," I glanced down, continuing my ministrations against his skin.

Dean reached down, grabbing my hand gently to stop me, and lifted my chin so I was forced to meet his gaze. I flinched a little involuntarily, not expecting the contact and tensing at it. 

"You are wounded," he said hoarsely, his eyes searching and piercing mine almost desperately. "In a way I have not seen before."

"You have seen me wounded in every way," I said simply, almost bitterly, but stopped myself when I realized my heart was not in it.

His brows creased. We were both silent for a long moment, the unspoken hanging between us.

"My father passed away. You know this," I said at last. I was sure he had heard. "Of course I am sad. I loved him deeply and he was all I had left...without him, my home contains nothing for me. There is nothing left for me there." I paused, thinking of the funeral with sadness, of his last moments, but couldn't stop myself from remembering all that had followed. "Nothing at all. I just..." I trailed off.

"You know I am sorry for the loss you've suffered," Dean said at last, sitting up slightly and wincing.

"Let's dry you off," I said quietly, offering him a small smile and my hand. After a moment he hesitantly took it and the towel I offered him. When he was dry and wearing a pair of his soft night pants, the bruises on his torso somehow brighter against his cleansed skin, he grabbed my hand pulling me towards his bed.

  
He sat down on it, leaning against the headboard and beckoned me to sit with him. I instantly stiffened again and he frowned.

"We need to talk," he assured me gently, allowing me to make the choice. I sat hesitantly beside him. He didn't touch me or even attempt to.

I regarded at him carefully.

"Why did you come back?" he asked at last. He folded his hands in front of him, attempting to convey an air of nonchalance, but his posture gave away his unease.

I blinked, not expecting the question.

"You were all in danger. I had to." I said simply.

"Had to," he repeated quietly, glancing past me.

"How did you know?"

The air around us was so tense I felt like I was being suffocated by it.

"Castiel," I said at last. His name was lead on my tongue. "You killed him?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, not with satisfaction or displeasure.

Dean inched towards me, clearly against the will of his body, his eyes crinkling slightly with pain he was trying to disguise.

"You're in so much pain," I whispered.

"I've never hid it as well as you," he brushed my hair from my face, a familiar gesture. I didn't pull away.

A long silence fell between us, and I let my head fall to his shoulder, reaching down and toying with his fingers, brushing them absentmindedly with mine.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. The weight of his words resonated with me.  
I curled in on myself, the weight of the guilt I was feeling crushing me. 

I felt my eyes begin to burn. "Those days when I was gone,..." my voice faltered.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Y/N," Dean pleaded. "Tell me. Please."

I shook my head, wincing, wanting to pretend it hadn't happened at all.

He cupped my head firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"I can't understand your pain, if you won't share it with me," he pleaded, his eyes wild and desperate.

I took a long steady breath, and finally I relented. I explained what happened since I had left, the best I knew how and the best I could manage. From my father's death to the moment I realised what did Castiel mean, and I galloped back to the castle in an attempt to help them all before it was all too late.

My cheeks were damp when I stopped talking and Dean was staring at me but I couldn't look at him. I hid behind my tangled hair, staring intently at the bed sheets.

"Y/N,..." he pleaded, his voice rough.

Dean pulled me against him, ignoring the clear pain he must have felt when I leaned against his torso. He wrapped his arms around me from behind as I let out a quiet sob.

"What you did," he whispered against me, kissing my ear softly. "Sacrificing yourself - it saved our lives," He squeezed me tightly and breathed in deeply.

"I was late!" I choked, fisting at his hand so tightly I thought I might break it.

"No," he whispered passionately, kissing the back of my neck with reassurance. "No, you wasn't late. Castiel had been challenging you, and had you stood against him - I am entirely sure the outcome would have been far worse. You came here, even though you knew you were risking your own life. Thank you!"

"I'm not sure I did my best," I admitted, feeling fresh tears spill over, bringing my knees up in an attempt to curl in on myself.

"You are so brave," Dean breathed into my ear, warming it with his breath and causing me to shiver. "I hate him for doing that to you, but I know that I have done worse," I sobbed at his words. "I will never hurt you again, Y/N. No one ever will I if I have anything to do with it."

I hesitated at his words, but somehow knew that they were full of truth. My greatest threat and my greatest protector.

"I want peace, Dean," I choked, curling into him.

"I want peace, too, swan," he breathed against me. He ran his fingers through my hair soothingly. "Stay with me, Y/N," his voice was pleading. I stiffened at the words, expecting them but shocked by them all at once. "Let me keep you safe, and give you everything you could ever want," his tone was desperate and almost frantic. "I never want to lose you again. I don't think I could survive it. I'll never forgive myself for what I've done to you, but I love you," his words were so feeble, like he was terrified to speak them but my heart stopped when they escaped his lips. 

I glanced up at him in shock through my tears.

"I love you in a way I haven't loved anyone. Only love can drive a man as mad as you have made me. As crazy as I have been since knowing you," I sobbed through a small smile at him. "I've never been in love before but I've seen it. It's untamed and senseless and can bring out the very best and worst in people, which I believe is what you've done for me. But I've decided to keep the good. The good I haven't seen in myself in a very long time, Y/N."

"I have no right to ask but I'm asking anyways," his eyes were wide with hope. I'd never seen him look more like a little boy than in that moment. "Stay with me?"

I met his gaze and he reached down, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a terrified glance. I was seeing so much of him that I had never seen, and yet I still wondered if it was enough.

"I want to believe everything you're telling me," I said quietly, my voice rough. "I just don't know if it's enough," I added softly.

He nodded stiffly. "I understand."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

His expression was haunted as he gazed past me into the distance. "I'm trying to be... better for you, Y/N. I have a long way to go; I know it better than anyone. There is a side of me that comes from a place that is hard for me to forget even now. You've done so much to bring me out of that darkness," he paused, his eyes searching mine. "Don't leave me now, when I'm so close to the light."

The strangeness of the moment hung between us, a moment where I held absolute power in our relationship-the power to destroy him, or to bring him peace. Power I'd never possessed before.

My heart broke at his words. "I need some time. I need to think."

His face fell, but he nodded.

After a bath and a long nap during which Dean worked on getting the castle back in order, I took off in search of Sam. Dean had assured me he was fine, but I needed to see for myself.

When I found his room, I pushed the door open hesitantly with a light knock. Christine was at his bedside reading to him as he laid back, eyes closed with a slight smile that told me he was awake. His arm was pulled into a sling and wrapped up tightly, his head also bandaged, but he didn't look too much worse than Dean had when I'd found him, though I'd been told his wounds had been more serious and required bed rest and constant care.

I glanced around the room as Christine looked up, startled. I noticed that it was almost like any other guest room in the castle, and that Dean had in fact been treating his small staff better than the servants I'd seen treated most anywhere else. The realization made me smile before I comprehended how odd it probably was that I had come here to his quarters.

"Forgive me," I said softly as Sam opened his eyes and his face lit up. "I just wanted to see how he was doing."

"Just fine," he assured me quietly, attempting to sit up a bit. Christine moved to help him and he nodded for me to come in.

"I'll go get some new bandages," she nodded and smiled at me as she left the room. I stepped in hesitantly.

"Oh, sit down, Y/N," he chuckled softly, motioning to the seat Christine had just vacated.

I smiled. "She seems to be doing a good job taking care of you," I noted lightly as I took a seat.

"Couldn't ask for a better nurse."

"I'm so glad you are well," I said sincerely, glancing at his bandages.

"I will be," he nodded, his expression sobering slightly.

I started a light conversation and Sam and we passed the time in small talk. He told me the story of how he and Dean had cleared the castle the night before in quite the heroic state, with humor and excitement, making himself sound like a gallant knight. I laughed at the tale as he recounted the wa yDean had completely decapitated Castiel, and the sight of his head rolling down the stairs paired with a disheveled and enraged Dean standing at the top had been enough to run the remainder of his men off. I humored him, but the tale left a sick feeling in my stomach. This wasn't a fairytale or a story I had read, this was my life now.

"How is Mrs. Macleod?" I asked after a few moments.

"She is well, been running herself mad around the castle trying to help get things back in order." I smiled

"I wanted to thank you," I added after a moment, glancing out the window as I spoke. "For everything you did to keep me safe. To keep Dean safe...everyone," I added.

"There is nothing to thank me for."

"We'd all be dead without you."

"I could say the same about you, dear Y/N. I don't know where we'd be at all if not for you, and I do not just mean because of last night. You've united us all," he continued softly. "Everyone is very happy to see you back in the castle."

I smiled gently, glancing down at my hands which were bunched together.

"I understand your hesitation," he added in an understanding tone. "I've been here through it all, and I've seen what you've gone through," I curled in on myself awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. "I've also seen what you have done for Dean, how you've changed him and tamed him remarkably," he whispered in awe. "It doesn't replace or excuse the way he has destroyed you," he paused, sadness lacing his voice.

"Truthfully, Y/N. I am scared to see what would become of him if he were to lose you forever," he let his words hang around us for a moment before he continued. "I don't know if the two of you will ever be whole again. Perhaps it is enough to be broken together."

"The wrong you have suffered here will never be unwritten, Y/N. But you've become so much to us -the Lady of this household. You are as much my family as anyone here. I don't know what family, if any, you have waiting for you, but I hope they love you as much as we have come to. This has become a home to you, Y/N, and I do not think it will ever be the same if you choose to leave it; but the choices you have to make are entirely yours, and I know they are anything but easy. Dean has changed you into someone that belongs here, and like the rest of us, I do not know if you can ever belong anywhere else again. I pray you find the answers you are looking for and make the choices that are best for you."

I listened to him quietly, biting my lip as his words both stung and rung true. I glanced up, nodding at him with burning eyes.

"You've been a true friend," I said at last, letting him know there was still so much I had to consider. "A brother to Dean."

Sam smiled warmly at me. "He has agreed to allow Christine and I to marry, you know. Did he tell you that?" He was beaming despite his clear pain and exhaustion.

"No," I smiled back brightly, my spirits lifting significantly for the couple. "When?"

"As soon as I am well enough. He's already hired people to begin the clean-up and decoration of the castle. I'd never expected that. I'd have been happy marrying her under a tree in the backyard if only with his permission, but he has insisted on having it for us in the castle."

"That's wonderful," I smiled at him, shocked myself as I remembered the way he used to treat his staff with formality. "I am so happy for you two."

Sam nodded, his eyes wondering my distant expression. "He is a good man, Y/N, not in every way, but in some, and I hope to see you at my wedding."

I chewed on my lip. "Maybe you will."

I don't know why I stayed that night, or the next. I told myself it was because Sam had been right, that I truly had nowhere else to go. Or because I had no one left that cared about me who didn't remain within the castle. Perhaps because I felt a sense of safety and comfort and belonging there. But it was a combination of these things as well as a yearning I had to be near Dean that I was unable to fight.

I was finally a free woman, one that could come and go at her will, and I had nowhere to go. I was a guest in a place that had once been my prison and somehow become my home along the way. Dean had given me space; too much space. I couldn't find him most days and got the impression that he was afraid to come near me, afraid that he might scare me off. I guess neither of us knew where to go from here.

I'd stayed with him in his room, feeling empty as I stared at the guest room he'd offered me in order to give me some space and time to think. I felt hollow that far from him and knew I'd be unable to sleep. He had made me that way, and as much as I knew I should not want to be near him, I couldn't help that I did. Could not understand it myself. Still, most nights he came to bed long after I'd drifted off to sleep, and rose early in the morning to resume work and preparations for the wedding.

By the time the wedding came around I'd started to miss him with an intensity I could hardly understand. The castle was bustling and decorated head to toe for the event. I lit up as I wandered the corridor to my room to dress for the event. Decorations hung in every corner and everyone I passed in the hallway was gleaming with joy.

As I looked through the wardrobe that remained for me, I found it difficult to decide on a dress to wear. My gaze lingered on a deep turquoise gown I'd never had the chance to wear but it was also pulled towards the elegant ash rose gown that I'd last worn on a night which had brought me much joy. The last night I had truly felt a sense of peace, of hope, for the direction in which Dean and I were headed and the path we'd been on. In the end, I pulled a flesh-colored out and had Mrs. Macleod help me squeeze into it. As I stared at myself in the dress, I couldn't bring myself to take it off again, and so it was decided.

Mrs. Macleod helped me style my hair. I told her to do whatever she thought would work, and when I glanced up from the material I'd been toying with I saw that she had arranged and fixed my curls artfully around my face. I rarely wore my hair down, letting it fall around me like this, but as I glanced at the way it framed my face and danced along the hem of my dress and collar bones, I decided she had chosen correctly. I smiled at her, playing with a soft curl that bounced along the side of my cheek as Mrs. Macleod brushed another back out of the way.

"Thank you," I smiled at her. She nodded, leaving to dress herself as I finished getting ready.

I wasn't anticipating Dean coming to escort me to the ceremony, not with the way he had been distracted lately, and so I went myself, finding my way to the grand ballroom where the wedding and reception would take place. I could hear the music and chatter as I approached and smiled as I entered.

I glanced around, never having seen the castle so full, and marveling at the way the room was finally being used how it had always been intended to, and wondering not for the first time how long it had been since this place had seen its former glory. Every servant I was familiar with or had seen around the castle was present, dressed in their best, as well as some I had never encountered before. At the center of the room stood Sam looking dashing in his best jacket and Christine beaming beside him in a simple but beautiful white gown. Some of their friends and distant family from nearby towns joined them in their chatter and laughed. The priest stood nearby waiting to begin the informal ceremony. Dean's mutt even ran about the guests, cleaner than I'd ever seen him with a bow tied neatly around his neck for the occasion. I smiled.

I scanned the rest of the small crowd for any sign of Dean, and spotted him near the back, giving a caterer very animated orders about what appeared to be a small feast. I smiled despite myself. I watched him as I crossed my arms, holding myself while I waited for him to finish. He was tense and assertive, and every bit the businessman I rarely saw these days.

When he finished, he glanced up as the servant took off and Dean's eyes at last caught mine. The tension fell away from him as he saw me, his eyes widening. He stepped forward cautiously but with a hopeful smile.

"You're breathtaking," he said softly as he neared me, slipping a tentative hand around my waist. He looked handsome as he always did. Some of the darkness that had surrounded him since I'd returned was falling away once more.

The priest called everyone to attention and Dean stepped away from me, but I reached for his hand, stopping him from wandering too far. I didn't hate him. I wanted to share this day with him.

One of his fingers remained locked with mine inconspicuously in the crowd.

I caught Sam's gaze as the ceremony was about to start and he beamed at me. I smiled back with more emotion than I could truly contain and my eyes began to water. I'd never seen him happier. He reached forward and adjusted a flower that was falling from Christine's intricate updo affectionately and my heart leaped.

"This was wonderful of you to do," I whispered to Dean as the ceremony began: a short exchange of words and vows and a token of affection for the bride and groom.

He caught my gaze, smiling at me, a genuine smile. 

"They deserve this and more." I stared at him shamelessly. So much about him had changed that I barely recognized him half the time. There was a joy in his aura that pulsated around him, sometimes overshadowed by the darkness within him, but increasingly overpowering it.

"You're a good man," I said softly, feeling like he really needed to hear it. Wondering if he had ever heard it.

He glanced down, unable to accept the compliment.

The ceremony lasted minutes and the two of us joined in the cheers and congratulations as Sam and Christine kissed and became man and wife.

Music struck up immediately following and the crowd joined in dancing around the couple exuberantly. I laughed as I watched them from the sidelines, wondering when I would get a chance to congratulate the couple with all the love they were surrounded with.

"Dance with me?" Dean asked, a hopeful arm outstretched. I smiled, surprised, and nodded at him.

He pulled me into him and we fell into step beside the others.

"What an admirable couple," I heard a woman whisper nearby; gesturing to the way Dean pulled me gracefully across the floor. 

I smiled softly to myself.

He held my gaze as we moved, his eyes tracing my face, the curls bouncing free around us, and lower still to the dress that hugged my form in a way that I knew was flattering.

"I'm glad you stayed for the wedding," he said at last, his lips finding my ear as he pulled me closer to him.

"As am I," I responded. His words held a question that we'd both been dancing around.

Sam and Christine danced nearby and I heard him holler that he was ecstatic to see me there, and Christine yell that I looked lovely. I congratulated them with a laugh and glanced up to see Dean watching me.

"I meant what I said the other day," he continued, his hand stroking my back gently as we glided around.

The conversation had become so tense that I stopped moving without being fully conscious of the fact and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the balcony where we were mostly alone.

He stood beside me in the quieter atmosphere, the hot afternoon sun warming us both as we glanced out at the beauty of what the castle grounds had become. The transformation of the castle was spectacular. It was blooming in every way.

"I know you did," I responded at last, tugging at my gloves as I spoke.

"I thought about going home," I admitted, gazing distantly away from him, trying very hard not to see his reaction as I spoke. "But then I thought... what home? What is left for me there?"

I sighed, hugging myself tightly. "It's strange, but this place has come to be my home, Dean. I never expected it, and even now it's hard to accept..."

He tilted my chin gently. "You've become my home, Y/N."

"I-"

"I mean it. I meant it all. I love you and I want you to stay with me. I need you to stay, but I mostly wish you to be here not because of me or anyone else, but because of yourself."

"I-I-" couldn't find the words.

_Love._

"Well, I..."

"Don't say it back," he said abruptly. "Don't ever say it to me until you mean it. And I know that maybe right now, you wouldn't mean it, not with your whole heart. That maybe right now, you can't trust me, not truly the way you should trust someone you love." He paused. "Maybe you'll never be able to mean it," he shook off the thought, his brows creasing.

"All I need to know, is if you'll stay with me? Make this your home, because you want to stay, because I will treat you right and fill your days with happiness, and maybe one day, share a day with you like this," he glanced at the happy couple. "Maybe I'll see you in white dress one day, or maybe I won't. Maybe you will do me that honor and perhaps not. Whatever you want, Y/N. All I'm asking is that you stay. Tell me that you'll stay and make a home with me and we can find out if I can make you happy, because, Y/N; all I want in the world is to make you happy again."

"I am happy. I'm happy in this moment," I breathed, a few tears slipping from my eyes, my emotions at an all-time high. I reached up and ran my fingers across the stubble of his chin gently as I cupped his jaw.

He smiled. "Will you give me a chance?"

I laughed through my tears. "I think I'd like that very much," I admitted, giving into my heart, something I'd fought for a very long time.

The hope and triumph in his expression broke my heart as he reached for me, pulling me close to him and folding me in his arms.

My lips found his in the afternoon sun, and they tasted like sunlight and above all, joy. They tasted like my past, the anger and the hurt there, but also of my future and of what could be. But, above all-they tasted of hope.

I pulled back and breathed the words.

"I love you, _beastie_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my readers - THANK YOU for reading this story! I hope you can take away something from this story, whether it may be forgiving someone, trying to find your way out of the dark, falling in and out of love, or just finding your happiness in this journey we call life. Thank you so much!!! - Yolly


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actors, as well and songs for the chapters. ♥

_**♥CAST♥** _

_**Jensen Ackles** _ as **Dean Winchester (Beast)**

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**_You_ ** as **.... you ;p**

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**_Ruth Connell_** as **Mrs. Macleod/Rowena**

_**Jared Padalecki**_ as **Samuel/Sam**

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**_Misha Collins_** as **Castiel**

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**_Mark Sheppard_** as **Y/N's Father /but older than usual/**

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_**Amber Heard**_ as **Christine**

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_**♥SONGS♥** _

**Runnin' (Pitch lowered, NOT Jensen!)**

**Ruelle - Find You**

**Valerie Broussard** **-** **A Little Wicked**

**"I'm Not Afraid" - (feat. Wondra) // Produced by Tommee Profitt**

**Dynasty - MIIA  
**

**You Belong To** **-** **Me** **Cat Pierce**

**Sam Tinnesz - Far From Home (The Raven)**

**Karliene - Become the Beast**

**Castle - Halsey**

**Billie Eilish - everything i wanted  
**

**Davy Jones**

**Ed Sheeran - Give Me Love**

**Christina Perri - A Thousand Years**

**Ciara - Paint It, Black**

**Sam Smith - Writing's On The Wall**

**''It's a Sin'' by Hidden Citizens**

**Fleurie - Breathe**

**Eurielle - Hate Me**

**Eurielle - City of The Dead**

**AAAAAAAND MY TOP......**

**Céline Dion, Peabo Bryson - Beauty and the Beast**

**;]**


End file.
